


The silver waif

by RibbitRabbit



Series: The Voyage Home [2]
Category: Dishonored (Video Games)
Genre: Crimes & Criminals, F/F, F/M, Implied/Referenced Torture, M/M, Mutilation, Reconciliation, Serial Killers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-31
Updated: 2018-12-11
Packaged: 2019-01-27 14:52:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 18
Words: 36,513
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12584280
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RibbitRabbit/pseuds/RibbitRabbit
Summary: He was a quiet manWith blood stains on his handsThe silver kissed him with scars so heavyI waited patiently, harmonic summer piecesThe desert echoes that drove me crazyReturning to the city she left behind four years ago, Childish finds not only her old home has changed, but her betrayal has made the people she used to care for turn their backs.After getting rid of her problems, it's up to Daud to deal with her. As they try to grasp at straws to mend their relationship,other things are set in motion and , gruesome murders paint the riverbed red.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> I don't want anyone to feel bad, this will be mildly graphic in descriptions of corpses and blood. Not too bad, but still there.
> 
> This is the sequel to Carapace, but technically you can read it as a standalone. I'll add a short glossar at the end of the first chapter, if you want. Tell me in the comments,if so! And yes, the first chapter may be a bit off at first if you don't know Carapace, but all that matters is handled in there. And it's a crimey story about reconciliation,yeeah!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Forgot to remove a time mentioned, this takes place around 1833, so of course Emily is not just born.Damn clumsy..

Water has a strange effect on people. It can calm them, listening to the sound of the rushing water. Or it reminds them of things they will never see again.

The water was brackish, grey, oily streaks stretched through the waves.

Wave sloshed against a naked leg, a bare foot, dirty with mud.

Corpses were nothing unusual in the Wrenhaven River. It was almost common to fish a body out of the water every day. Some unhappy soul, ending their life, or someone thoroughly removed and thrown in.

People always throw things in the river. There were secrets whispering in the riverbed, of sunken coins, a string of pearls a lady had worn when she jumped, never to return again.

Things washed ashore whispered of sunken ruins, kingdoms and old beliefs. Bones and runes and tales tainted and half-forgotten.

Sometimes they were found. Sometimes they were more worthless than other times. One man's trash was another man's diamond.

The river had seen so much blood,death and destruction,it didn't really care for one more dismembered or robbed sack of bones. These would stay hours if not even half a day, until somebody discovered the body. And basically it was meaningless. Dead people do not hurry, finally.

The body was white, eerie blue almost, in the dim light of the morning.

It was a woman, almost a girl, arms stretched, naked. With the palms up, she lay sleeping, nails torn and bloody. A single silver ring glistened on one finger.

Crusted blood streaked her hair. It once had been long, combed back into an elegant knot.

Now it was wild, flowing around her face. Her mouth was slightly opened as if to draw a surprised breath. She'd never breath again, and whoever had laid her to rest on the sandy shore had taken care that it was unmistakable visibly.

Her neck, long and frail, was cut. Not one simple slash, but angry, like claws striking at prey.

Dead eyes stared into nothingness, a milky streak hiding their blue colour. They didn't see the Seagulls that circled above. White dots on a gray sky, they moved closer fast. Clattering their screeching beaks,they'd get to work soon. Always greedy,always hungry.

The dead woman wouldn't mind. SHe wouldn't notice.

Dead people seldom do.

* * *

Close by, on a bridge, a man looked down, to where the corpse was half hidden.

Eyes as cold as a winter night were filled with a glimmer. He wore gloves, old, once black, faded to brown, bleached by the sun. This gloved hands twisted a ring as silver like the one the woman was wearing.

 _Hushed whispers, silent screams with hands clawing through the air, twisted hair flowing free, blue eyes wide._ _**Let go let go it hurts, it hurts, let go.** _

A ring tossed into the river. Never to be found again.

Silver glittering in light, no sound except the seagulls and the horn of a ship in the distance.

_Hunger, still not sated. Never sated. He needs to go, not to loose himself in the moment. There are more. Always more._

* * *

On the other side of the city, a house burnt to the ground

It was a shattering fire.

The earth seemed to shake as an explosion tore it apart, in the middle of the night. It came out of nowhere.

Bricks shattered. Glass splintered.

Bodies scorched and burnt,unrecognizable, like scattered leaves all across the place.

People gathered fast. It didn't take long for a small crowd to find their way out. Some were clearly there to watch. Some tried to put the fire out.

Rumours spread as fast. A accident, some said. The man inhabiting the lower floor by dealt with explosive goods. Maybe a tank of whale oil hadn't been put in place, and toppling down, incinerated the building.

Some sort of terror attack? Wild minds asked.A protest? A reminder of opportunism?

The city had celebrated. The next days, not so much.

It wasn't devastating. It wasn't even that remarkable. No one knew of the men scorched to death by flames,fueled not only by explosives but also by vengeance. A tragic circumstance that they had been having a little late night meeting, probably just chatting and laughing.

One could imagine them in comfortable leather chairs, maybe with a cigar or a whiskey.

Some left family. Some vanished without anyone to care for their legacy.

If one would have asked about these men, there would have been multiple answers.

He was a respectable member of our institution.

He was a nice neighbor.

He drank too much and had too many women, but no harm in that, right?

What was left unsaid, spoke as much truth?

He drank too much and harrassed the maids. He paid them to keep their mouth shut. No harm was done, right?

He was a silent man. He used his fists more than his tongue.

Respectable means nothing. Not if you use status and wealth as a guard.

Poor men. You can't escape fire with fists. You can't pay it to go away. Or be silent.


	2. Chapter 1: Goodbye, Sara Verley

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Goodbye old girl. Some people don't want you to stay.

Keep your friends close and your enemies closer. She wasn't sure what she was, for that matter, as Daud practically dragged her along. She still smelled flames and cinder, but the rest of the world was a blur as he held her in a grip she wasn't able to break out , as much as she wanted to fight, to scream and kick.

Greenfaced and sick, hairs standing in every direction, Childish was left on the floorboards when they finally reached even ground.

There were boots in front of her, and as she looked up,breathing hard,she saw Daud, looking at her,but not making any attempt to help her up. She gave him her best smile. He huffed before turning around.

With a sigh she forced her wobbly legs up.

'I'll never ever get used to this shit.'she whispered,mostly for herself, as she stood up.

'I heard stories.' Childish whispered and looked around. 'I never thought I'd get a peek in the lair. This place is huge,isn't it?'

'Not your concern.'

'I wouldn't mind to make it my concern, truth be told.'

Ash was eerie silent, making no noise as he appeared close by, dressed in black, hands in his pockets. He was not alone, childish noticed with interest.

Her eyes followed their every move. Dark hair, reaching along her jawline. She was a lot younger than Childish herself, even younger than Ash, which was especially estranging for Childish,since she just saw the 16 year old boy too big for his own skin.

_Gods,I am not THAT old,am I?_

Childish cocked her head in a curious manner. In the silence of the room, the looks she got were cold as ice.

Ash's green eyes were narrow in the light, and he hesitated to make a move toward her.

'Take her away.'Daud stepped away from her without as much as a glance as he gave Ash a nod, and Ash nodded back. It was a bizarre play, loyal Ash Dancing like a puppet on a string.

'And here I had hoped we would catch up on good old times.' Childish mocked, still weak on her feet. Ash took her arm, very careful, as if he was afraid to burn himself.

_My own little sweet child, cautious. That's a heavy one to regret. But the list is long already._

The woman and Daud were left behind, and as Childish was guided along the hallway, she almost crooked her neck in the attempt to look back at them. Something passed between them, an exchange. She couldn't understand what they said, but she could see the way Daud's eyebrows furrowed. Then the woman gave him something ,very small, silver shimmering.

Huddled together, they seemed awfully close, and she laughed at the stinging bothersome feeling of jealousy. Ash gave her a unsettled glare.

Then Ash guided her around the corner, and they were out of sight.

'Hey boy. You don't have something to drink,do you? Throats awful dry.'

Ash didn't answer.

'Boy? Where exactly are we going?'

His hands touched her back as they stopped in front of a door, and in the next moment he had gripped her arms.

_Oh no. Bloody no._

The silence treatment didn't sit right with Childish. And the way he held her arms didn't help.

'You're not going to put me in a cell,'she whispered.'Do you?'

'Not quite.' the first words he had spoken to her that night were tainted with coldness.'We usually don't let anyone stay here. When I convinced Daud to let you live, I had to improvise.'

She didn't like the sound of that. At all.

When he opened the door she was faced with a small room. A bed was standing on the wall, and it was clearly inhabited by someone, if only the way it was neat and clean. A candle burnt on the small old bedside table. A blanket was spread out on the floor, and as Ash urged her inside, she swallowed hard. Tight, dark room, now way out.

‚That's a broom closet.'

'That's my bedroom.' Ash said. The next moment something slung around Childish's arms.

A rope cut deep in her skin.

'Wait, wait, wait!'

'No. I waited very long. I am not going to wait for you ever again.'

'I understand your anger, Ash. But please. You want to know what happened out there, don't you?'

He bristled. There was the shadow of confusion on his face.

'You love stories. Always did. Come on. There's no harm if we take a little trip and I tell you everything you want to know.'

'A trip? Are you serious? Daud would kill me.'

'What? No. He seems rather occupied. Come on. I need a drink.'  _Let me out!_ A part of her wanted to beg.  _Just let me out._

'No way.'Ash declined.

She clicked her tongue in frustration but didn't fight him. He worked fast tieing her hands together and knotting the rope to the bedpost.

'Until I decide you can be trusted.'Ash promised.

She sighed, tired.'You didn't think this through. How am I supposed to eat? Or piss,for I don't think you like soiled sheets.'

'You can do that tomorrow. When I have time to watch you. For now…i need to leave. I think something happened. Billie wasn't too happy.'.

‚So the lass usually is a chipper one? She looked rather sour. Which happens, one might expect, with all your mystery assassin business.'

Ash glared at her. ‚You're an asshole.'

‚Tell me about it.' she said, rolling her eyes.' You're the one that tied me up in a broom closet.'

She could sense he wanted to say something. There was anger in his face. Maybe it was a shipload of blame. _If you hadn't left…If you were a better friend…if you had not.._

She knew it all too well, it was the thing singing her to sleep like a lullaby.

He didn't say anything though, he just took a deep breath. Then he checked the rope and left.

Childish curled up in his bed, wondering why she had returned. The sounds of the house put her to a numb sleep.

Days went by , slowly creeping hours of waiting, of hurting hands.

She had loosened the rope , but not taken it off. A token of good nature. No one had ever checked her for her weapons or lockpicks, but she wagered in a house that was as deadly as the whalers hideout, no one would need to.

What could her bread knife do to someone able to move through thin air? And who knew what other terrific tricks they had in store.

Ash had been done the same tricks. She wondered how. Her mind wasn't fond of her thinking about this stuff. Of powers not human. But Daud had clearly shared them before. She had seen other of men before when she had visited his old hideout. She knew there had been far less back then, and she had never seen them without their precious masks, so she wouldn't be able to recognise a face. That was ,if they were even still alive.

Things had grown to a bigger scale in the last years. This was an organized group. Daud had planned and carried out his ambition. She admired that. As someone who hopped from town to town, taking what she needed, she'd never stayed long enough to form any kind of close bond.

There had been a boat once, where she had stayed. Hoping to forget, giving in to needs, to closeness and touchs. But even that had been fleeting.

When he cut her loose the next day, she was glad as she was afraid.

But Daud didn't come to slit her throat , and no one acknowledged her existence as Ash guided her through the house.

In a house full of strangers and lost chances, she was all alone.

She wished he'd let her fall into the abyss between rooftops. Or burn to the ground with the house she set aflame.

Chipper Billie Lurk crossed her way once or twice, but all she did was glare in a way that made Childish's spine itch.

Living off a loan was tempting her to try her best and run. But she kept her feet still and her mouth shut. Ash didn't parade her around, or tried to tickle information out of her. He seldom spoke more than necessary, still acquiring his everyday tasks in which she was alone , sometimes tied up, sometimes loose , but always in the locked room without much light. It did add to her gloomy mood.

People didn't ask questions when they saw her. Apparently no one knew what she had done. It was a thing between her and Daud, and he kept his distance.

She smiled, and the smile was as fake and plastered to her face as the day she had run off on the streets.

Ash made her sit on the ground, watching him, like a dog.

She watched him care for his weapons, and she even got to watch him blink in and out of existence. Which was still unnerving and terrifying. Once or twice he was awoke even earlier, or didn't go to sleep at all, but always busy.

Impressive, she thought. If he was even half as disciplined as the others, this whalers truly were a force to be reckoned and it was no wonder they'd survived as long.

From time to time she sneaked something in her pockets she thought useful. Most times he caught her. She had raised him well, and Daud had taught him much.

She'd been in the house for almost a week. Not more than a glance of the man she remembered to have missed very much in her run around the world. And not much of anything,to be sure. Ash handled her with care, but distance, and there wasn't much left of the warm boy sleeping next to her. Or so she had thought,until she watched him around others.

As she was sitting on the cold floor, he talked to someone in the doorway. And when he returned,there was the genuine smile she knew.

She would not have thought her heart could hurt more.

Childish decided she had enough.

* * *

 

'I'm not fond of being locked up.' she tried to give her voice a cheerful sound. 'Did you tell the boy to tie me up?'

'A fruitless effort, I see.'he answered flat, not turning around from his spot at the window.

'Knots were not bad, but I know a thing or two of being tied.' He could sense the wink evem in her voice but still didn't look at her. Her feet made little noise as she shuffled closer.' I just wonder…why am I still here? I have thought you'd rat me out. Or kill me.'

A corner of his mouth twitched. It was not like he hadn't thought about it. He had. If she had been on his doorstep a few months after their encounter, no one would have been able to save her. Seven years had cooled the anger into something else. Disappointment? Lukewarm disgust, for sure.

_'Let's get this over with.' she had whispered. Smoke and cinder around them. Flakes of ash smeared across her cheeks and forehead, he saw the lines under her eyes, around her mouth. 'He's dead. You wanna do it? Or shall I search for a nice spot on Kaldwin bridge and jump?'_

_Honest regret, words plucking a string, memories of a woman he had thought never to see again. Friend. Liar. Enemy. Dead and buried, but now right there, before him. No more running, her feet were close to the edge._

'I didn't bring you here because I am particularly mercyful.'

'True. But you're not cruel by chance either.'

Compliments came with a price, and the way she looked at him told him she hoped for something. He was not willing to give her anything.

'Look,' she cleared her throat. ‚You're awfully busy,I get it. I'm a bitch, I  _know_  that. Just don't let me brood in the uncertainty.'

'Not so nice,is it? To be left with more questions than answers.'

'Snarky one.' she took a deep breath.'But I deserved that one I guess. I told you I am sorry. What else is there for me to do?'

‚Words don't mean anything.' he snorted, anger creeping up his back as she just stood there like a beaten little child one had caught stealing sweets.

As they stared at each other, she was the first to look away, with a smile on her face.

'What could I ever do to prove to you I am sorry?'

'Nothing.' he didn't hesitate to say. His patience was wearing thin.

'I didn't think it would be like this. I didn't mean to invite you. I didn't mean to let you find me. I mean,I knew you would. You are the most resourceful and resilient person I know. But I had hoped..Ash..and you..'

Hoped? He thought, mouth twitching again.

'People Go on in their lifes. Especially when you treat them like shit, Sara. The boy was too good either way for you.'

'You don't think I know that? I wanted him to have a good life. A simpler one. But  _you took him from me._  You make him fight and kill and steal. A bunch of merry murders, you have, loyal at your feet, great Daud, the leader of-‚

'Spare me your dramatic antics.' he cut her off.

He took one step forward. She backed one. There was fear in her face.

'My  _antics_  never seemed to bother you when we were friends. Or when I kissed you.'

With one swift move his hands gripped her collar. Small and skinny as she was, there wasn't much weight to hold, and he hurled her back one step, flung her around. Her upper body dangled over the edge of the window. One push. One push to make her tumble over, to make her hit the pavement, to see her limbs break, her skull crush. So easy.

'Bringing me here to fling me out wouldn't be smart.'she whispered, still terrified.'Attention is not your thing.'

'You never knew when to stop.' he growled, and for the first time, she didn't try to answer, gripping his hands in a desperate manner. Scar littered tiny hands, with one finger too stiff to grip properly.

He hurled her back inside, and she backed off.

_I know I am going to regret this. It's as safe as every freckle in her face stands for a lie she tells._

He pinched the bridge of his nose.

'Leave. Pack your bags and go.'

‚You're letting me go..? I don't understand.'

'Neither do I. So don't test me. Do what you are good at. Run.'

'But where to?'

'The boy will get you to a ship. I'm sure. But never return to this city.'

Mouth gaping, he left her standing.


	3. Chapter 2: Work with your tools

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am currently working at chapter 4 and 5 , and will probably post the next chapter on sunday, usual schedule,I just couldn't sit still on this anymore,hehe. Also, welcome the newest addition of characters, the good doctor.

**He watched her hair. Auburn, tied together in a knot. A single strand had escaped and dangled around the curve of her neck.**

**She was on her way home, so late in the night, all alone. He could see she was tired in the way her shoulders slumped down. She hugged herself against the fresh breeze.**

**Under her coat, a black and white uniform peeked through.**

**Poor woman, almost girl, delicate and shivering.**

_**Too early, not now, not here.** _

**From his spot at the wall her frame got closer, and he could make out her features in the white light of the lanterns.**

**A single mole above the curve of her upper lip.**

**Circles under her eyes.**

**His hand trembled slightly, as he smelled her. A faint , flowery perfume, very subtle. But just as delicate as her frame. He clenched them to fists in his pockets, waited until she passed before he turned around.**

**She hadn't seen him. And she wouldn't know what was up until he wanted her to know.**

_**Lucky girl. Not today. Sleep tight.** _

* * *

_Shoot a man with a gun. Your aim must be true._

Billie Lurks feet moved in a steady stride. Knowing where to step could safe your life. And so she always took care where to put her feet. Sweat was forming on her brow as she ran. Her breath was even. Concentration was the key.

_Use a sword to cut him down. Hands must be steady._

The sound of water close by, seagulls circled her head, screeching sounds over the roar of the road nearby.

A cat ran over the cobblestones, paws soundless and tail twitching. Grey and ragged it prowled, hissing a little as she passed way too close, and disappeared into another alley.

_It's not about the tool you wield._

Billie did neither slow or stop as she met the end of the alley, a high fence. Fingers gripping into metal, she hurled her feet up, and climbed. Fast as she could. But still with even breath. Her feet did almost make no sound as they hit the ground.

_You are the weapon._

Hands came out of nowhere. Thin pale fingers, and formed into a tight fist, they aimed at her face.

Billie ducked. Another punch, this time lower, and she blocked it.

The impact hurt, but by the sound of the attacker, as she grabbed his arm and twisted it brutally, she _hurt him more._

He struggled in the grip, and kicking, he broke free. He landed a blow on her chest, but she didn't mind.

Billie sucker punched him. A closed fist contacting the soft underbelly of a person, knocking the air out of the attackers lungs.

Another punch, straight in his open face, and he went flying to the ground.

Moving her arms and legs, breath deeply, she watched the young man on the ground.

'Mean right, Lurk.' He moaned and sat up, inspecting his jaw.

'Weak kick, Ashley.' She answered, offering her hand.

One hand still around his jaw, he took her hand. 'You're just better than me.'

 _Because you lack purpose._ She thought but didn't say, cleaning the sweat from her brow. _You're lazy. Fooling around when you could do better._

'Next time, at least try to hide.' Billie told him and he smiled, sharp features somehow turning _soft_ in the process. He was charming, she'd to give him that. But charm was not necessarily a proof of good character. Luckily for Ashley, he was a decent person. He had patience like a saint.

'Yes, Ma'am.' He said, good natured if only a little snarky. 'Or maybe I'll just sent Thomas or an acolyte as cannon fodder.'

' Then you'll never improve that crippled kicks.' Heart slowly calming, she put her hands in her pockets.

'One was told training would earn a decent breakfast.' Ash remarked as they reached the main road and the roaring life surrounded them. The scent of fresh baked bread hit her nose, and judging by Ashley's expression he had smelled it too.

They made their way down the street together, passing numerous shops and a yelling kid not older than 12, a stack of papers in his grip.

_**ANOTHER BODY FOUND** _

_**KILLER ON THE HUNT ?!** _

'By the way.' Ashley had moved a little closer, tousled brown hair hanging in his eyes. 'Was there anything you learned when you...you know...'

'No.' _Talk or silence? Both has its perks._

He shrugged. Still eyeing her close.

_Know when to speak, you'll learn a thing or two._

'She had a ring. That's all.'

He was the one paying in the end. She didn't mind and he never complained.

Hand clutched around the steaming warm baked good, he seemed to have forgotten questions for a while.'A ring?'

'The thing you find on fingers.'

He rolled his eyes, still in good mood. 'I know what a ring is, Lurk. What kind of ring?'

'Silver.' She said between two bites. 'With a gem.'

'Sounds like an engagement ring.'

'She wasn't engaged. Maybe she stole it. Or it was a gift.'

'Sure. Or bought herself. ' A while they walked in silence, eating.

'You gave the ring to Daud?'

Maybe, she thought, he wasn't as lazy as she had thought. The interest in his voice was clear.

Ashley was deeply in thoughts. He almost tripped over a loose cobble. When he caught himself, there was a little smile on his face.

'No point in guessing.' He finally said. 'If the smartest people around don't find a hint.'

_He's good at ducking his head. I knew kids like him. They could hide in plain sight all day, just because they let anyone think they were superior._

Something threw her off. In the way he tried to use this skill against her. In his sudden interest.

It tickled in the back of her neck. But then he smiled again, very genuine, and the sense was gone.

'You need something around here? I wanted to-'

'No. Just go. I'll see you tomorrow.'

She watched willowy Ash with the smile walk away, sure to keep an eye on him in the future.

* * *

'I don't think they know they are trespassing.' Standing straight ,hands behind his back, Thomas shifted only slightly as he saw Ash appear in the doorway.

'Then make them leave. ' Daud said, not acknowledging the young man waiting, watching. 'And sent someone to patrol. I don't want them any closer.'

'Yes.' No backtalk, no questions. A swift nod and Thomas was on his way again.

'It's done.' Ash just said. They both knew what he meant. 'Ship's left to the islands early this morning.'

'No problems?'

Ash's jaw clenched. 'I wouldn't say that. She wasn't happy. But as I said. It's done.'

'Good.'

Ash took another step closer, but stopped when Daud looked at him.

'Something else on your mind?'

'No. It's just...after taking her here I hadn't thought you'd let her off the hook.'

 _Colour us both surprised, boy,_ he thought.

Ash was twitching under his glare, but didn't insist on anything.

 _My loyalty lies with you,_ he had pledged. For his sake he hoped that held true. He couldn't afford another stunt like Sara and the bomb. For one moment, thinking about the night and the fire , and their last conversation, Daud felt tired. It didn't hold on for long, as he straightened his back.

Someone was moving through the house, boots clucking over wood. There was the faint sound of swords sheathed, and hushed voices. Probably Thomas or one of the others sent to patrol.

Ash cleared his throat. He still hadn't left. 'Lurk told me about the ring.'

Daud's eyes wandered to his desk, where silver metal rested on cool wood. He choose his next words careful, putting emphasis in them.

'I don't remember ordering you to sneak around. Or her confiding in you, for that matter.'

It showed effect. Ash's face , half hidden under tousled hair, went a little pale. 'I'm sorry, I asked her about it. Just..curious.'

'You know what curiosity holds in store for people sticking their nose in matters they don't belong to.'

Ash didn't falter. 'Yes, as I said. I apologize.'

Daud huffed, and Ash took a last peek at the ring before retreating.

* * *

Henry Mirrik stood on his work desk, hands bloody. Water splashed as he put his hands in the bowl. Strings of red spreading.

Silver metal blinked in the light, a scissor and a pincer, stained with blood.

In the small room, various amounts of tubes, glass and boxes lay scattered around.

Mirrik was concentrated. His hazel eyes slightly narrowed as they looked down on his now clean hands.

He rubbed them, before returning to the man seated next to him.

The man moaned. Blood soaked a bandage on his shoulder.

'Don't move it too much.' Mirrik insisted.' I'll give you something for the pain, but you'll still feel terrible.'

'Thanks, doc.'

The appreciation earned the man a small ,crooked smile.

'Don't thank me yet. It'll hurt _very_ bad for a long time. You are lucky the bullet didn't hit your bone or important muscle tissue. Else your shoulder would be crushed now and you could never move it again.'

The man just nodded at Henry Mirrik and shifted slightly to grab a leather pouch.

'Not much, you know how it is sometimes.'

Mirrik didn't count the money, just slid it in his pocket.

'Yes.' Said Mirrik, still smiling crooked but friendly.' Especially after one gets hurt because he lost at gambling again.'

The man laughed and moaned again in pain. A knock on his door made Henry stop in his tracks.

He grabbed the scalpel laying on the table, sharp and clean. 'Just a moment.' He muttered, more to himself than to the man.

In this part of the city, it was best to be prepared for the worst. Especially if you decline to pay tax to the local gang.

He had some sort of ceasefire most of the times, because he had patched up so many of them. But sometimes, they forgot friendly deeds.

Scalpel held tight, he moved to open the door.

 _Look at you, Henry,_ he heard the mocking voice of one of his former colleagues _. Wading deep through the filth of the city. Your future held so much promise. You could have become famous, with one of your studies! Your mentors were so proud! Or even just the doctor of some rich man. But you decided to go here. Doing good work, are we?_

A crack, a knifes length, but as he saw the familiar face, he tore the chain away to open the door up wide.

'Ash? Are you hurt?'

'I'm fine.'

'Well, do I need to fetch my things then?'

'Not necessary. I assure you, no one's hurt.'

 _Coming to a doctor when no one is hurt?_ Mirrik gave Ash a long look, from his gloved hands, to the scar slung around his jaw. Green eyes watching, brown hair ruffled, with scars on his forehead _. Consider me curious for your motive now._

'Can I come inside?' Ash asked.

'Sure, but I've got a patient.'

In the cramped and packed up room, Henry watched the other man take a seat on a box, silent. He blended in with the background like he took the colour of the wood, patiently and calm.

The man on the chair had watched their exchange but didn't mind Ash much. Not with the pain he was going through.

Henry Mirrik returned to his task. Handing the man a small vial, he gave him only few further instructions before he sent him on his way into the dark.

'I need your help, Henry.' Ash started from his spot on the box, while he watched the doctor clean up. 'You know about the murder last week, the girl found at the river.'

'Who doesn't?' Henry worked quick. He'd done the same stroke of work so often he didn't need to watch too closely.

Ash clenched his jaw, muscles tense in his face. 'I hoped...you could find out more for me.'

'Just because I am a physician' Mirrik said, scolding.' does not mean I'm invited with kisses to join the examination of a murder case.'

'I know.' Ash tried to appease him. 'But you got contacts. And even if you can't find out anything about the victim. You'd be able to give me the name of someone who does. And your.. knowledge,' Ash scratched his cheek. 'Would be very appreciated.'

'My knowledge?' He asked, crooked smile again on his face.

Ash smiled back. 'Yes, good doctor. Your knowledge. You are very wise for a man your age.'

'Then I suppose I could try to get you that kind of information.' He furrowed his brow slightly, hazel eyes watching the visitor. 'Share my wisdom.'

'Thank you, Henry.'

'Are you staying for a very late dinner?'

Ash sighed and hopped down the box.' I'd love to, but I am busy. Another time? 'There was hope in the question.

The doctor couldn't let that hope be in vain. Good soul that he was. ' Of course. Keep care.'

'You too.' Ash said ,in all honesty.

As he led the other man to the door, the scalpel lay on the desk. It had taken a good while for him to earn the doctors trust. But if you were patching up local gangs, poor citizens and other shady people, sometimes life led you on a strange path. He wasn't very comfortable with the whalers knocking on his door, but they were discreet. And most of the times, in high contrast to poor citizens and local gang members: they paid. Whatever moral terms people were claiming to have, everyone needed to eat. And his supplies wouldn't just refill themselves.

It had been coincidence the young man was around more often. He wasn't that often hurt. But he brought people, or got the doctor, and he _cared_. Someone caring for others wasn't that common in a place like this. And then, he had started coming around without bleeding people tugged under his arms. He was a pleasure in the filthy and screaming lowtown that was Henry Mirriks home.

Henry Mirrik watched Ash disappear into the shadows, like he was made of fog.


	4. Chapter 3: Letters and eyes

Billie had seen two of the three dead women. She had seen their naked, small forms, tossed in the muddy sand like they were just another piece of garbage, their red crusted wounds, angry lines on their faces, their cheeks, their stomachs.

There'd been little to no clue left of their identity. The only things left with them were a small piece of cloth with the second, blue and brown with blood, stuffed in her hand. Like a piece of paper secretly moved from one hushed hand to another.

But with Draper's Ward booming, there was no chance to trace that back.

The other was the ring. But it wasn't likely to find anything about that either.

Ashley had shown so much interest in that ring, she could have told him it was made of diamonds and gold and he would have believed it all.

The second? The other? They had names, didn't they? Why not remember them?

_Camille, Etta, Kira..._

Those women had done nothing wrong in their life. They were young, hardworking, alone for the most part.

_Did they see him? He slit their throats. But he wasn't calm._

She thought of the long, angry slashes. While he knew where to hit, he didn't stop after one clean cut.

_Had he thought of them as wharf roaches too, had they just been getting in the way, like Deidre?_

No, that killer was a hunter. If nothing, that was sure. And in two, or three weeks, she was sure, there would be another dead woman if nothing happened.

She watched Daud's back, coat fluttering in the wind as he moved along.

It wouldn't take two or three weeks. Whoever that man was. He was done.

* * *

Late night dinner would not cover the stress and persuasion it costed Henry Mirrik to get the information his friend, the man with the smile, had asked for.

A long day spent in a suit too small, hurled up in a library, surrounded by people he knew were making fun of him behind his back. Abbey in his back for snooping around a murder.

He hated it all.

He almost didn't get through with it.

In the end, it went down with embarrassing comments. And he swallowed hard on the anger in him.

_Mirrik wants to work for the city guard now. Oh Henry, always such a good heart, you only want to do what's right._

_Isn't that suit a little tight for him?_

_Leave a poor man alone, he lives in a slum._

_Such a shame._

_How everything went down._

_True. He was so promising._

He hadn't felt this embarrassed since the day Dr .Galvani...no even worse, the day his assistant. That blighted girl... _better not go there. Not now. Focus._

The stack of papers were heavy in his coat. He felt eyes watching him as he moved down the street. His arms hurt, the collar itched from the tightness. Henry Mirrik heard himself breathe, and he didn't like the thought to be without his scalpel.

Almost home, he hugged the coat around himself, checking for everything in place.

A girl crossed his path, auburn hair in a knot, tired eyes.

He smiled and moved alongside her.

For a second, she was terrified, flinching as he moved closer.

Her mouth was opened in an attempted scream, a small mole over the upper lip. Then she recognized him.

'Doctor Mirrik.' She gasped. 'You had me scared for a second!'

'I am sorry.' He said, touching her am.'On your way home to your father, are you?'

'Yes! His cough is much better since you last came to visit. Thank you again. You deserve much more than just words.'

'That's good to know. Tell him, if he needs me again, he hasn't to be shy.'

She smiled, big and friendly. 'Thank you, Doctor.'

Smiling, they parted ways, as a door opened and Mirrik saw the girl's father glaring at him.

Mirrik waved, but the man just pulled his daughter inside.

 _Obsessive bastard._  His bad mood made him cranky, as did the clothes and the talk.  _Wouldn't let your daughter out of your yard if she hadn't to get work._

Henry hadn't reached his place, key in his hands, the feeling of being watched didn't fade.

* * *

_Dear Priscilla,_

_I am sorry for writing you instead of looking in your face directly to tell you: Your husband, may he rest in peace , would be thrilled and angry to see you in your current situation. I know you always worked and lived the way you wanted to, but consider me, your oldest friend, as a remainder. Of how things used to be, and how things have changed. The world, Priscilla, has moved on for seven years, and if your husband was still with us, he'd have little patience with lies._

_I hope this letter finds you well, and the flowers accompanying them can mend the pain and be at least a little condolence._

_They may not look like much, but the thought counts. A flower is a flower, no matter the color or in what paper you wrap it._

_Your friend,_

_Henry Mirrik_

 

_Dear Henry,_

_Thank you for the flowers. They are the most precious thing you could have sent to me._

_As for my husband...if he was still with us, I would do anything to prove myself to him. I hope he would appreciate what I am trying to do. With time, things will fall into place. I can sense it._

_I started a new hobby! Painting! I gave one older piece a new touch. Interpretation, you may call it. Finished perfection, I say. I will tell you all about it next time we meet._

_Until then, stay safe, my sweet lad,_

_Your Priscilla_

* * *

Trust was a sword sharp enough to cut a man's neck. He better choose careful who to trust again. And if he was stupid enough to let the sword on his neck a second time, it was his own fault.

Daud shook the thought off, only concentrating on his breath.

Patrols were tightening around this part of the city.

In the distance, Kaldwin Bridge floodlights circled Wrenhaven river, and a loud deep rumbling vibrated through his body as a ship roared nearby.

Over the rooftops, close to the edges, fast, silent.

After all those years it was so deeply implanted in Daud's body, so easy, it was almost a habit. What's new was the flickering wall of light below him. He'd heard of the construction. He'd watched them built it. Distorted flickering echoed down the street.

Some men in city guard attire circled around the wall, chatting until one leaned down and picked something up.

Little furry ball, grabbed be the tail. Squeaking sounds. The man laughed and with a swing the rat landed into the flickering lights. Only ashes remained.

He'd have to keep an eye on that. Sokolovs newest, brilliant invention.

Changing direction, for now, he moved on. A floodlight turned and drew a line of light, where his shadow had been seconds ago.

People talk when afraid. People talk when nervous.

There was a nervous itch on everyone's back when your wife, friend or daughter could be the next.

 _I don't know why,_ the man had slurred scratching his head. Fallen from grace and willing to talk it out, for a coin, so he could drown his dirty conscience in cheap liquor.  _I remember a woman, poor young thing, five years ago. They made the husband loose his head for it but..._

Slashed throat, messy. Skin peeled in layers from parts of her body like the crust of a delicious roast meat. Flesh ought to be just as red.

_I say he didn't do it. Was the same as now. Just younger._

Same as now, just younger. That drunken old fool was maybe just that, a drunken shambling mess, but he remembered well, and he was the closest thing to a new lead for days.

5 years. If that was true then whoever that man was. He hid well. As mad as a mouse in a teapot, one could argue, and filth, without question. But very clever.

The image of the guard gripping the rat at its tail appeared behind his eyes. The rat tried to wriggle free, but wouldn't make it.

A Trespasser. Just like any other.

In retrospect, the man may have tried to act smart. Believing to guard your possessions and delicate information about the intern secrets of the city guard, about things swept under a carpet, keeping them close to were you are most of your time. He could have hidden them under his pillow and it couldn't have been farther from safe.

Daud had little trouble getting in the house. The owner wasn't home. Peculiar.

His guards must have been. But they were no where to be found. Vanished, into thin air, that didn't sit right with him.

As he moved along, keeping close to the wall and silent, hands ready, he found the doors of the bedroom wide open.

A guard was on the floor, blood on his forehead and a silver candlestick close by spoke a clear language. Someone else had done the job for him.

The papers were sprawled out along the desk. The safe stood wide open. The picture in front made him stop. A black and blue portrait of a woman and a big dog, staring into a world far away. It had been smeared with paint.

Someone had drawn them both a twirling mustache.

He felt irritation staring at the careful drawn lines, perfectly fitting the snout of the dog and the upper lip of the woman.

* * *

_Dear Priscilla,_

_I heard about that painting. It was as if your husband spoke the me about it. Silly, I know._

_He wouldn't have liked it, I think. He never had the abstract comical sense you love so much, and most times, neither do I. I almost find the place you choose to show it controversial. If your dear beloved man and I could talk about it, I probably wouldn't tell him you made it._

_We'll meet soon enough, I promise._

_Henry Mirrik_

 

_Dear Henry,_

_Oh god goods, imagine my sweet husbands face while stumbling about that. I wouldn't want that. If he had still seen it, I think you were right about not telling him. We always were so peculiar with each other._

_Drinking makes me sentimental. The past week was a lot of stress. I rewarded myself wit a new coat, you should see it, the man made a flawless job._

_And may I say, I look dashing._

_I may take the trip there again. You should come with me._

_Your Priscilla_


	5. Chapter 4: A piece of silk

Above a chimney, hidden in the smoke, and leaning against the bricks to feel the warmth, a small figure sat and waited. The view was nice, one had to admit. Streetlights, people, railway carriers, life in motion.

Without as much as a flicker, Ash appeared, scarf pulled over his face.

'Oh, my dear Henry.' the figure greeted, pulling the hood back and smiling, revealing scars and freckles littered cheeks.

'I hope Priscilla is aware we are using her name.' Ash said, sitting down next to her, looking over the city.

'Yeah,' Childish scoffed.' she doesn't care as long as she can scream at me how I got her husband killed from time to time.'

In younger years Ash would have been sad at the mention of Crispin, now he didn't feel much. Just some old longing he couldn't a moment they just looked at each other, unfamiliar territory, treading careful.

Childish seemed just as clueless as him, maybe even more so. He could sense her urge to crack a tasteless joke, but she kept it together, if only this time because they had important matters to discuss. 'I read the doctors paper- and I have to say. That man is wicked smart. '

Ash smiled at the thought of Henry Mirrik's face, his crooked smile.. 'He is, isn't he?'

She flicked her finger on his head. He flinched. 'Quit the swooning. Here's What I learned so far. The ring is not important.'

'Lurk said something different.' In fact, she hadn't said much. But he had thought it to be important.

Childish looked gingerly satisfied at that, eyes half closed like a fat cat. 'Yes, because chipper lass Lurk is sharp and set you up. It's very cheap. Not even real dandy stuff. Something along the lines of copper I would guess . It's a dead-end.'

The thought of her watching him didn't sit right with him. He had noticed her glaring, but hoped it was his imagination. Lurk's glares always held a promise. She'd notice what was off. And she'd not let him off the hook. Of Daud knew...Ash shuddered and concentrated on their discussion.

'But how would you know?'

Childish licked her lips. 'Because there are two other dead girls, and while none of them had rings, they both had green rings around their ring finger. Which happens, when you wear jewelry consistent of copper. It's the sweat and some kind of stuff from the metal that tints your skin.'

'That's...specific.'

'As I said.' She shrugged.' Doctor is smart. And I know a thing or two about jewelry. So, the rings can't be traced. But they tell you the murderer stuck around for a while. He gave them the rings as presents. Since I know none of them was engaged or had open relationships- or hidden secrets, for that matter, remind me to give Daud a kiss for his tendency to be so meticulous.'

She smiled. Ash shook his head.

'So, the question is...where did they meet? It seems unlikely he picks them per coincidence. The hair, the small frame. They were all maids. That's a pretty specific pattern.'

'Well, small makes it easy to catch them and slice them open-' he eyed Childish. 'No offense.'

She chuckled. 'None taken, lad. I have scars to prove that right.'

'So, you know the pattern, you know how he mutilated them. You know all the things Daud knows. How will that help?'

Childish licked her lips again, and Ash thought about the absurdity of them sitting on a roof, hidden , secretly. Of her stupid plan and him going along.

‚  _I don't get why I am helping you.' he had said after helping her sneak back into Priscilla's basement._

_Childish shook her head, and the wet hair rained tiny droplets of salt water on his coat.'Because I want to prove myself. You are a sucker for redemption,my friend.'_

_'He's going to find whoever murdered those women eventually,you know?' As soon as Ash had said the words he felt they were cold._

_'Oh yes, I am well aware. My point is not to prove his 's to prove my willingness.'_

_'Its very you.' he had to admit._

‚ _Brilliant?'_

‚ _Stupid. Not thought through.'_

‚ _Ah,I hope I'll make you see reason in the end.'_

‚ _I hope I live to witness it.'_

_She smiled, and in spite of her usual grins, it was a very toned down expression._

'Thanks to the painstaking and careful work of the doctor and Daud, and you, for the case, I looked into something else. There was another victim. Unfortunately, Daud had the same idea. He got there a tad too late though.'

Ash sighed. 'Yes, I know that. I had to lie A LOT to cover it up. Should have seen him. He was very interested if I had done my job and sent you on your way. And Lurk was watching as always, hawk eyes and all. Not funny. All that because you felt the need to vandalize.'

'Improvement, I call it.' She gave him a dismissing wave with her gloved hand. 'Artistic freedom.'

He felt an itch of irritation. Her whole attitude hadn't changed a thing over all those years. He wondered how he had gotten along with everything she had said and done. A glorified mother figure, walking the streets at night, always danger nearby. He felt a bad feeling in his stomach. 'Next time write a note that says  _Childish was here_.'

She watched him with raised eyebrows. 'That snark is certainly knew. But appreciated, since I know you learned from the best.'

'There was a woman , five years ago, a seamstress. It was way more messy. But her throat was slit the same way as the others. They interrogated her boss, but nothing ever came out of it. Her husband got in for it. The were arguing they said. Who knows if that man ever confessed a word.' Childish exhaled a deep breath that almost sounded like a heartfelt sigh. 'Dead by now, of course.'

Ash wrinkled his face as he thought hard, her words resonating with something he had heard or read.

'The second one.'

'You mean?' Childish asked, impish grin tugging at her lips.

'The second woman was found on the river too. I remember. But...she had something in her hand. A piece of silk?'

'Yes.' Childish remarked almost casual. 'A very pretty one, at that, but again, nothing came ever out of the investigation. City was eager to wrap it all up. Two women in only a few months, no thanks, the papers started to smell scandalous news. Guess who has the same silk in his store as the woman had in her hand.'

 _Tssk_ , made Ash's mouth in a snide manner.

'The man the seamstress worked for.' He then said.

'That's right! He's a very nice old fellow, by the way. Had a great talk. I fear he's still hiding something. I'm going in and out tonight. Care to join?'

'I don't know yet. I'm being watched very closely. Wouldn't want to risk it.' He pondered, heart heavy, head undecided. 'I will see what I can do.'

'Nah, don't sweat it. Gotta keep your cover.' She stood up, arms stretching.

'Childish?' Ash called, as she was about to climb down.

'Mhm?'

'What did happen that night Daud brought you back?'

A very strange small spread over her face. It didn't reach her eyes. 'I blew up James, Gailvan and a lot of other people. I made it clear I wouldn't mind dying when finished. But Daud didn't approve that plan.'

 _Why would you_..? He wanted to ask, but didn't find the right words.

'I thought I'd die in the process, you know. And frankly, I only was sorry we met before I could get through with it. Having a grouchy master killer accompanying one doubles survival. Without him and my stupid wish to be honest, I'd have gotten blown up too. Probably.' She shrugged but didn't look at him. 'Life is strange like that.'

 _If only you had_ stayed. He thought bitter.

'Well, I have to get going. 'One last smile. 'Priscilla hasn't screamed at me today. Need to tell her I am still alive.'

'Stay safe.' He bid her farewell with the words he had used as a prayer for months those years ago. Not knowing Crispin had said the same thing often when she was on the run.

She remembered. 'Never.' She whispered with the tiniest feeling of sorrow in her hollow chest.

* * *

As tiny as the shop was, the storage room was huge. Silken curtains caressed her skin as she got in, moving along shelves full of precious cloth.

Draper's ward had rendered most of this industry to a shell, and the old man was one of few still holding up. He paid a high price, Childish wagered. Poor old fellow, seeing getting your work and life torn away for profit.

Greed was a big motivation.

Tailor's dummies draped in half ready coats plastered the way out of the storage room up to the stairs that led in a small, cozy flat.

Old pictures of ladies in fine clothes and drawings of clothing decorated the wall.

She could feel, the man living here loved what he had done his whole life.

Could he really be a killer?

Doubtful.

She pressed on, careful, crouching along the wall.

He was asleep in his bed, snoring. Old man's snores loud and noisy, deep out of the throat.

No pictures of relatives. A single spot on his wooden night stand, she noticed, but only by chance, the wood wasn't as garbed by the light. A small item had been standing there for a long time. Maybe a picture? A small portrait?

Careful, she worked through his drawer.

Few clothes, some sentimental values. And a small box filled with letters.

_Sorry about that, but I really need to earn forgiveness. You'll get them back. Maybe._

Her stiff fingers were bad today, right hand all numb where the wire had cut through her flesh all those years ago.

Childish retreated as silently as she could, loud snores covering her steps.

_My dear son_

_I wish I could have stopped you._

The letter had never been sent. Crinkled paper, stained with wine and tears.

Childish's hands grabbed the paper tightly.

_I know you didn't mean to kill Moira. I know you were angry. But I can't understand why you did that to her body. She didn't deserve what you did._

_I can't live with the guilt. I see the guard you paid to look the other way. To get us out of trouble. He comes by often with his wife._

_I can't do this anymore. Please. Stop at once. This false pretences. The lies._

Hard to stop that once it builds up, Childish thought. It's easier to get by. Same as always. Else you'd have to admit you did wrong. And what a terrible feeling that is.

She folded the paper neatly. That was solid. The son had killed Moira the seamstress five years ago.

She had to find something that would prove for once and all he was the one she was looking for.

With an unsatisfied click of her tongue, she took the other papers out.

_Father_

Ah, so despite the not sent letter, they did talk? That was good to know.

_Be more careful. Don't say or write anything suspicious. Carry on normal.. It's all fine. You need to continue. I need you. You know that. We're in this together._

More like it. Son's trying to smother his father's disagreement. Childish scratched her chin as she read of the son. He had sent many letters. Over all those years. The last was not older than a week.

What a coincidence, a letter after the day the girl had been found. A day after she had burnt the house to the ground.

It was clear the old man was ridden with guilt. He had covered up his son for a long time.

Would it be out of the question he was in this too?

People that know of a gruesome secret, Childish thought, standing up, are mostly in it to protect. And what do people want to protect more than the things they love?


	6. Chapter 5 : If only just a look

In the safety of the house, surrounded by other sleepless souls, Ash had waited for his chance to get out.

Watchful eyes were all good and fine if they were on your side, but not if they kept you in check.

He had waited and listened intently himself. Daud wasn't there. Good thing.

Since their last confrontation, he was sure the man didn't trust him as wide as he could spit.

Which was strange, considering the amount of time they had spent together. He could have gone anywhere. And Daud didn't have any obligation to ask him to join all those years ago.

Probably it had all been to spite a woman they had both cared for. But maybe because a little part of him hoped, he was useful.

He wasn't as loyal as a soldier. Not like Thomas, never asking questions, treating Daud like an indestructible creature without the flaws of mortal men.

He wasn't as dedicated as Billie Lurk, not aspiring. Not disciplined.

He had killed and he took orders. He'd do it again. He'd run along the perimeter and patrol, report, and serve. He owed Daud too much.

But he wasn't one of  _them._  No matter what the power moving him through the air, the mask or the sword said.

Here they were, lying in waiting.

The next day, he snuck away. He used the poor Doctor as an excuse. Hoping he would cover up if necessary.

Lurks suspicious glare was following his every move. They'd been sparring together the whole morning, silence so thick a knife would have been able to cut through it.

He had tried to smile it away. But she was, as Childish had said mockingly, too sharp.

'You spend an awful lot of time with the doctor.' She said, and it wasn't just a statement.

'What's wrong with that?' He asked, irritated, which was hard to achieve.

Her eyes were so intense he could have sworn she could see it all. Then she lowered her head, hand combing through her tousled hair. 'Nothing, I suppose. He's clean.'

He took a second to understand what she meant. ' Why would you think he wasn't?'

'A lonely, smart man, living in the poor when he could have it all? Just to help people?'

'Some people are not just after their gain, Lurk.' Ash swiped his sleeve over his forehead.' Sometimes people do good things because they mean well.'

'And bad for the same reason. We both know that.'

' Clean, hm?' He couldn't let it rest. 'Were you worried about me?'

'I was just cautious.' Lurk gave him the cold shoulder, and he couldn't stop thinking she'd very much reminded him of someone else he knew very well. 'He knows a lot. But after watching him for a few days I can say the worst thing he has to hide is how nice and boring he is. He's the kind of man to pick a kitten off a branch.'

Ash thought of the doctor with a fluffy kitten and had to chuckle.

'He's more of a puppy person I'd say. But...thanks.'

She brushed it off like she often did.

When he entered the basement, Childish was sitting on a barrel, feet dangling, eating something out of a bowl that looked like someone had spat out already digested soup.

'And?' he asked. 'How'd go?'

She slurped on her soup. ‚He wasn't the one killing her. But...he has a son. Letters are hidden away, no portrait. Like he was ashamed. After some more snooping around, I found the son. And you know what else I found?'

Ash didn't have to think long about this. ‚He killed the seamstress. '

‚Ding ding.' she gobbled down the rest of her food, noisy. Everything is an act of defiance with her, Ash thought, almost rolling his eyes in good nature. He remembered her being able to be well mannered. But mostly if she could gain something from behaving. 'He wasn't home when I stopped by but his neighbor is a chatty lady in for juicy rumors. She told me how he stays out all night and leaves on strange schedules. She also said he was a nice, quiet man. But he and his father don't go along so well. Fighting, very noisy, last week.'

Last week. The dead woman. What a coincidence. Ash didn't believe in coincidence.

He was a tiny bit impressed by her dedication. And so serious too.

_But you already forgave her. She isn't doing it for you. She's doing it for HIM._

'If he could hide away, why leave the cloth behind?' Ash asked.

She nodded. ‚Yes. Well, about that...I don't think the son would make a mistake like that. '

Ash thought about it for a second.'THe father ?'

‚ Yes. Messy. Ashamed. The old man has enough. But he cannot betray his son.'

Ash didn't know what to say about that. Instead, he crossed his arms as she licked her fingers and put the bowl down.

‚So, you're doing what now?'

‚Well, ‚she got up. ‚What does a dashing hero usually do? Confronting the villain in a long monologue. PRISCILLAAAAA!'

'You- _What?!'_

‚Yeah. Sure. I get him and when I do, I can prove my worth.' Childish cleared her throat.'PRISCILLA!'

‚WHAT IS IT NOW, YOU RAT INFESTED MADWOMAN?!' came a screeching yell from upstairs.

‚FETCH ME MY GUN PLEASE!' Childish yelled.'I AM GOING TO GET A KILLER!'

'I hope he gets you first!' Priscilla answered, and Ash watched her hand appear in the basement door to throw down a weapon.

'I love you too, old girl!'

Ash shook his head.'I can't believe I thought you changed.'

'I wish I could say the same, Ash from the whalers.' Childish answered, putting the gun in her coat.

* * *

Just a quick look, Childish told herself. And then you'll be a good girl and bring him here. Somehow.

A note? Wasn't that unpersonal? But so mysterious!

Let Ashley do the work?

No, he'd get ALL the credit and that wasn't the intention.

Childish yawned, long, mouth wide open, balancing over a rain pipe.

She didn't sleep very much since the night of the fire, and the fact that the man she wanted to impress by catching a murderous zealot had almost flung her out of a window before basically banishing her didn't add much to reassure her.

Not that she hadn't deserved whatever he wanted to do to her. She had stolen from him twice, had been close under false pretenses and if she had run him over with a railway car it would have been less disrespectful and hurting.

Salt crusted hands and coats, hammering beats of hearts, biting and tugging.

Good gods, she couldn't forget. There'd been kisses before and after. It wasn't about those. But she had never missed something more than their relationship.

The talks, the lazy moments in the sun, the quiet ones, just being close, and the times he had glared at her blabbering mouth to shut.

He had made her feel good. She missed feeling good. Not being judged. And just. trust. Someone having her back.

Things had taken a turn for the better. In his case, at least.

She was still the filthy vagabond she had been the moment she'd betrayed him.

Albeit more focused now that her mind raced around the murders.

Ash was something else. Something she had no clue about. A man. Not a child anymore. Not the boy she had shared a bed with, hugging and holding tight. There was nothing left to protect.

Just a quick look, she repeated. Take a peek at that monster. I want to know the face of the man that I condemn at the hands of a skilled and swift sword.

And so she stopped at the roof of the neighbor's house, studying the facade intently.

There he was. Seeing him, knowing she preyed on him as he did on the woman gave her some sense of satisfaction.

But he wasn't alone.

Amber haired. Small. Smiling.

His hand touching her back. She didn't like the way his fingers curled along her spine.

Childish bit her lip.

Just a look? Not anymore. She couldn't let him off, not now.

He'd hurt. He'd kill.

It would be her fault. The death of that woman was on her head if she left.

Somehow there was a difference between that woman and the people she had been willing to burn.

Dropping down she made her way through the window.

'Lovely place.' she said, hand wandering into her coat. Jeremy Pointman, murderer of at least 4 women, stared at her with big blue eyes, grabbing his latest victims arm. She could see the similarities between father and son, in the curve of the jaw, the upper lips, the brows. Sorry, old man, she thought. You two brought this upon yourselves.'Though I'd love it more bright. Maybe some new curtains?'

The woman screamed. He didn't let go of her arm but the confusion was big in his face.

'Let go of her, Jeremy.'

'How did you get in?' he asked, not doing what she had told him.'Who are you?'

'A woman with twitchy fingers.'she shrugged, getting hold of her pistol and drawing it.'And a gun.' Her fingers were ready to pull the trigger.'Let. go.'

Slowly, very slow, he did as she told him.

The woman ran away. Feet scrambling over the carpet.

The door fell shut loud with a click.

'In your own home? Thought you were smarter. But then again your father helps you clean up, doesn't he?'

'I don't know what you are talking about.'

'Sure you don't. Innocent angel.' her voice quivered in sarcasm, barely hiding the disgust.'. I bet you said that too after Moira was dead.'

'Moira?' he scoffed. ‚That was a very long time ago.'

‚Tell you what,'she said, fingers still around the trigger. He made a slow step back, but she knew that trick. She wouldn't let him get away. 'A long time means nothing for the dead.'

'Try turning me in.' he dared. 'I'll get out. It's all the same.'He did another step back.

'Oh, my friend. I'm not turning you in.' her lips twitched as she kept the barrel pointed at his head, metal shimmer in the light.'Not in the way you think.'

It was another variation of the dance she had danced so many times. But usually, she was the one trying to back off.

Jeremy Pointman was no idiot. He turned and ran, shutting the door, sending it flying in her face with force.

Childish followed, stopping the door from shutting with her foot.

Down the stairs they flew, loud steps echoing through the bend and twisted old stairway.

Childish pulled the trigger.

With a loud BANG wood splintered close to his shoulder.

Jeremy Pointman ran as fast as he ever had in his the streets in a sharp line.

He ran, coat flying behind him. Pistol again hidden in her pocket, she gave tail, chasing him, maneuvering through the lively crowd of evening folk.

He looked back to see her close, blue eyes wide.

Suddenly a flash of silver.

Metal crashed. A railway car hit the poor bastard with full force. Screeching sounds, as the car slowed down, tracks cracking.

He was flying through the air, over the street, through the dust.

Then nothing. Limbs tangled he lay there. A pool of blood formed around him and Childish didn't need to get any closer to seeing he was very, very dead.

'Shit.' Childish whispered.

A crowd was gathering. And a familiar uniform was close.

Someone blocked her path. She tried to squeeze through.

'What happened?' A voice asked.

'This woman was chasing him.' Someone said.

'Miss,' another voice. 'Miss?'

'I heard a gunshot.'

Childish's eyes darted around. No way of running.

Then a hand sunk like the hit of a hammer on wood, touching her shoulder.

'Yes?'she tried to sound calm. She'd get out of this. Somehow.


	7. Chapter 6: Shackles

Shackles closed around her wrists, clinging in high sounds as she leaned back in the chair and stared at the blank ceiling.

'Miss Verley,' Ah, the friendly one was at it again. Calling her Miss, and evidently not punching her in the face when she refused to answer. She licked her split and bloody lips. For hours this was going on. At first it had seemed she could get away. Lying and bluffing her way out of a misunderstanding, that poor man had died because of an accident. But now they knew her name...and they seemed to know something else too. 'I am well aware of your connections. We have hard evidence you were responsible for the bomb set up in Westlake mansion. A property belonging to a man named James Westlake, former noblemen and rising member in the abbey.'

Well,that was new. Since now it had been mild accusations, more talk than anything else. But this was a game changer. She frowned and looked at him,fine dark dressed nob. Unlike the broody tall one messing up her face he was one she'd chosen to accidentally stumble against and slip her hands in his money.

'If you know it all. Why talk? Just get the noose ready.'

'Why talk?' He looked at her like he wasn't sure if she was joking. 'Because of said connections. Especially your former association with a group called..the whalers.'

'The what?'Childish stuck a finger into her ear like she wanted to clean it.' I'm sorry, it sounded like you said whalers. But everyone knows that's just a cock-and-bull story.'

'Miss Verley.' He sat down in front of her.' We both know the truth.'

'Hah!'She spat out, red saliva spilling over the desk close to his folded hands.'I know a bloody lot of the truth, but nothing of these things is remotely worthless enough for you to hear.'

'Not?' How the friendly one stayed as pain staking neutral she couldn't fathom, with her spit in front of him. It was more frightening than the fist in her mouth.' I was told by a rather curious prostitute named ..ah what was her name again..? Tenna Smiles? You used to be very close with specific members of that group.'

Tenna Smiles. Childish could barely mask her surprise with a little chuckle. The frog always knows best. She'd forgotten about that sly pretty thing. Hadn't thought about her once the last seven years even though she had been helpful that one time. Now it was all but too late and Childish regretted not having one clue what Tenna had done or knew.

'Tenna? Haven't seen the lass for years.' Not even a lie.

'Ah,but she has seen you. A rather cautious woman. She told us all about you.'

'I don't want to repeat it, but just so we're all in the same row, yeah?' She gave him her best smile.'Heard nothing but stories. Seen nothing.'

'Maybe we can form an agreement.' he proposed.' You tell me about them. I don't get you executed for murdering 10 people.'

10 people? Strange knowing the numbers. Like a bad habit, her mouth was faster than her thoughts, even though they were racing. It formed a wet round O , blew out air and produced a loud and clear farting sound. It sounded strangely bizarre in the stale grey room. 'As if!'

'Well then, we have other ways to make you talk.'

'Let me guess.' Childish shifted uncomfortable but kept the smile.'More punching?'

Big arms grabbed her, and she struggled in the grip, shackled and helpless.

'You wish we'd agreed on the deal, Miss Verley.'

A fist hit her stomach and she hissed , writhing in surprise and pain. The next one hit her straight in the face. The arms holding her didn't care her fruitless effort to claw their way free, only making noise with her cuffed and chained hands.

* * *

_Is she back? She's not. Why would she not come? She hasn't changed her mind and ran, has she?_

_No, not with that enthusiasm. Not with that serious expression. But if she hadn't returned and no one had seen her…_

The inside of Ash's cheek was bitten bloody. He crossed his arms tighter, sitting on his usual spot, in the dark of Henry Mirriks workplace.

He sometimes came here, not to snoop around,but because it was silent, but not cold. He didn't feel watched, perched on the box like a cat, and Henry didn't mind having him around. Though he was sure he mostly disagreed with the way Ash was around.

It was just a stair up to the small room the doctor slept in, and he couldn't bring himself to return since a long and embarrassing moment they had spent there.

Now the doctor wasn't even in his room.

He just happened to open the door, keychain dangling.

'Henry.'Ash said, forgetting about the fact he was sitting in complete darkness.

Henry Mirrik dropped whatever he had been holding. Things scattered on the floor, glass broke. 'Outsider, Ashley!'he hissed, scrambling around in the dim light, until a yellow shine embedded them.

'Sorry.' Ash apologized.' You alright?'

'Yes. But you just broke a fortune of pain medication.' The doctor didn't sound too pleased about that, but his face was just tired. For a moment he looked at the mess of liquid, glass and cloth , trying to figure out how to properly clean the mess. Then he just took his bag off, shrugged out of his coat and moved past Ash. Their shoulders brushed lightly.

'I'll get some new.' Ash promised.

'I won't ask where it comes from.' Henry had gotten a broom out of the depths of the unorganized stack of boxes and shelves. ‚Though I can recommend some unpleasant people who happen to have just the things I need.'

Henry's voice made Ash forget his restlessness for a moment.

'And I guess they wouldn't miss them?'

'Well,' there was the crooked smile Ash had grown so fond cleaned up quick, practiced, controlled. His brown gloves lay on the desk as he put the glass away. Ash tried to help, leaning in close.' They can get new ones easy where as I have to rely on the help of a handsome young burglar.'

Ash chuckled, caught somewhere between embarrassed and flattered. Then he thought of the way he had bolted out of Henry's bedroom and embarrassment got the upper hand.

'About the other evening.' Ash coughed slightly. 'Sorry I left.'

'No, I understand.' Henry turned away, broom in his hand. 'I didn't think this would turn into something serious. But I enjoy your company. So I sincerely hope this won't stop you from coming by.'

'It could be.' Ash said, all the carefully laid words mixing up in his head. Henry's hazel eyes watched him, brow furrowed. 'Something serious, I mean. I'm not good at keeping things casual. And apparently I'm not good at talking about this as well.'

Henry gave him another crooked smile ‚We'll see how things are going, is that an offer you can take? '

_That wasn't as hard as people make it out to be._

A moment they smiled at each other. Then Henry spoke again.

'Was that the reason you sat in the dark?'

'Not entirely. I...I told you about the woman that raised me after my mother died. Who was like my sister.' Ash felt a little bad loading it all on Henry.

'Yes. I remember.' the doctor said.'She wanted to redeem herself by finding out about the killer. And I found that all highly questionable.'

_You'd find it plausible if you knew at what high stakes they all play._

'But you helped.'

'Because it was you. '

Something about that made Ash smile.

'She found him.'

Henry leaned forward. 'She did?'

'Yes. But..she hasn't returned and I can't find her.'

There was a conflicted impression on Henry's face.

'What?'

The doctor frowned.'Oh. I mean this could be something else. But I heard something.'

 _Tell me_ , Ash's eyes urged.

'They arrested a woman.' Henry didn't look him in the face.'She was chasing a man, he had a terrible accident. Seems she's a criminal all the same.'

_I let her go alone. Of course this happens._

'Ash.' Henry said, watching him pace like a caged wild animal.

'Fuck, fuck FUCK!' Ash feet kicked a box hard, it tumbled over. He kicked it again.

'ASHLEY!' Mirrik grabbed Ash's shoulder hard.

'She found the killer. But they caught her. And I can't..' Ash's eyes were full of tears he tried to blink away.

 'I'll see what I can do. Take a look.'Henry promised.

* * *

In her cell, Childish lay in the hay waiting when she heard voices. Her stiff and numb fingers were trembling. Eyes swollen heavy black, she couldn't see much.

_It's over then. Well, I suppose I had it coming for a long time._

Regret was a pool in her stomach.

'Well check the papers all you want,I am allowed to go in there and treat your …imprisoned.' a man's voice argued. The guard spat something about waste of time.

'You will find this waste of time keeps her alive until she speaks her mind.' the man hissed.

A worn out suit, on a thin man with a clever face. His feet moved fast as he jumped in the cell, leaning over her.

'Childish?' he whispered and she looked at him with new found interest. She wasn't able to get up, just watched him.'My name is Henry Mirrik.'

 _The good doctor._  She realised. Ash's what..? Lover?

She could see why Ash was fond of him. He looked kind. Ash strove to kindness like a moth to a flame.

'They hurt..my hands.'she whispered, hoarse voice,lips dry. 'But I didn't say a word. Not about the boy. Or anything.'

'You're a brave one.' He whispered back, caressing her fingers in soft touches as he took care of them. She let him. Cool relief drowned her , and he worked quick.

'He's right though, you're wasting time and money.' she managed to say.'I'll be finished once they get I won't talk'

'I don't think so,' Henry said. 'Ashley send me. He knows you're in here. They'll get you out.'

‚So..Ash told  _him?_ ' She smiled. Or tried. 'He won't risk his head for me. I have little value. It's safer for him if I die.'

She had wished it otherwise but she knew the deal. She knew how careful he was. She had admired that about him.  _Loved,_  even.

The doctor looked at her in bewildering pity.'I don't know about that. But don't worry. We find a way.'

'Time's up!'The guard shouted , opening the door.

She was left alone in the darkness again.


	8. Chapter 7: A tear worth shed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Resistance is futile. And pride is a fickle mistress.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whaaat so sorry! I absolutely could not write. I hope to post more at the end of the week!

_If they take you to Coldridge, it's over._

A woman once named Sara Verley remembered that sentence. It was burned into the inside of her brain.

A man she'd tricked and stole from had said it to her.

Eyes weary, glass in a hand, his greying hair surrounded by a halo of warm light. He had sat on a table edged with scars of knives and scratches, smudged with wax from dying candles.

_They get you once. You can flee. If they take you to Coldridge though... you'll die very fast if you are lucky._

She remembered her laugh, her dismissing wave. But her insides had trembled. Fear on her tongue, she had known he was right.

Now, in her cell, bloody and torn, she couldn't forget.

It would be over soon. They'd get her there by tomorrow. And then she wouldn't be able to laugh it off.

All the pain and the beatings was nothing. Not compared to that place. They'd take her apart slowly. Her eyes, her hands. They'd burn her if they needed until they would toss her aside like the broken toy she was.

Maybe they'd shoot her or hang her first.

The cell blocks held promise for a rotten life like hers . A part of her was sure she deserved it. The other part knew how unfair life was and just wanted it to end quick. Because she'd cut her tongue out before saying a word.

She prayed to all the nameless gods except one. Even close to death she wouldn't take his name in her prayers. Because if he would answer she knew what was to come. And she would accept death first.

_I failed as a friend. I failed as a mother. And lo behold the thought of me as someone's lover._

His face was the last thing she saw when she closed her swollen eyes to get a moment of rest. Steady eyes, hard lines around them, lips pressed together. The rest, the hollow nightmarish creature that was her memory, retreated as long as she held tight to his face, to the dark , glittering thoughts in his grey eyes.

As long as she could trick herself, persuading herself she had tried to be strong. Had tried to do the right thing for once. Be clever just this one time.

It wasn't about good and bad. The world was not that easy. He had been right all along.

She wasn't stupid enough to think that love would heal her broken soul or change the way they were.

She had found the killer, at least. That was something, wasn't it? He'd be glad. One less weak thing, less filth.

One of the guards rattled his sword along the bars of her cell. A booming echo of metal clashing. It tingled her scalp and rang behind her ears.

He mocked her. She couldn't blame him. Last night she had sung, as loud s she could. Venting all the anger into her voice. Not only to annoy him, but that had been a side benefit. She sang as loud as she could until he had smashed her teeth bloody.

Now she couldn't sing anymore. Her dry lips formed a weak attempt of whistling though. Licking them, she produced tiny , unmusical sounds that were hardly pieced together into a melody.

The guard stopped the rattling and looked at her with disgust. She gave him the best smile her blue face could manage before continuing.

_What shall we do with a drunken whaler_

_What shall we do with a drunken whaler_

_Early in the morning..._

* * *

A riddle unsolved proves a lack of willingness. Of discipline.

This riddle had taken too much time for far too long.

Daud looked at the holes in the wall, almost smelling the gun shot.

A shot, fired in haste, and not to kill. To slow? To intimidate?

Peculiar, wasn't it?

And how very lucky. Someone else had done his job. He had seen the stain of blood, where the broken body had been found.

Small mercy, despite his crushed skull and the broken bones he was said to have been dead immediately. Broken neck.

It had taken not too many rumours and not too many people to get to this point. After weeks of fruitless effort suddenly everything had fallen into place.

And still he was too late. One step behind. He did not like that in the slightest. But what was done was done. That man was dead. And if he had been the killer, there would be an end to young women found naked on the shore.

He didn't even have to search the place. There was a piece of silk. Draped under the pillow of Jeremy Pointman. Crusted with old, brown blood. Moth-eaten and old. A dead seamstress, Daud supposed. Five years ago.

A rat scurried across the carpet, close by. Tiny claws scratching over wood. It found its way into a hole in the wall, tail disappearing into the darkness.

_The man I looked for dead and a woman chasing him arrested._

Case closed, as the city watch said.

His lips formed a thin line as he stepped through the abandoned place.

Things like that happened. Accidents.

So why, was there this feeling, a thought nagging on the back of his head, that something was not like it should have been?

Same as being a step behind, he couldn't approve of that uneasy caution. It was like a bite, itching, a scar, healing. It was nothing noticeably. It was all right. Except when it was not.

He trusted his instincts enough to know there had to be something, somewhere.

Better find it. He was, after all, good at finding. He sniffed them out like the prey they were.

Finding, hunting, fighting , killing. Easy steps. He didn't appreciate someone had intervened. Who knew what they destroyed.

_They arrested a woman. She was chasing him. He was frightened and she was not shy to shoot._

He knew that warning shot. Somehow he was reminded of their showdown in the caves.

As he looked at the window, Ash appeared on the balcony, silent, but urgent.

'Daud. 'the boy said. His head was lowered, his eyes on the ground. He was the image of a choir boy. 'I need to talk to you. It's about something I did. And I..I don't know-'

'Now that you mention it,Ashley.' He took his time , breathing, studying the young man next to him. 'I need to talk to you too. '

He was positively pale and scared. Daud didn't mind.

'You think I didn't notice you sneaking around?'

'I know Lurk kept an eye on me.' He said. 'I just thought-'

'Better don't think.' Daud brushed his weak attempt off.' I know what you did. Hiding your old friend. Playing detective.'

Ash's green eyes were wide. 'Then you know she did this.'

He didn't answer. His mouth was still forming a thin line.

Ash looked at a point next to him, not able to look him in the eye.

‚But the guard found her to. I didn't mean to bother you with this. But I can't get her out alone. They are going to put her in Coldridge. They know she was close to us.'

 _Don't make me shoot you._ He remembered her drawn pistol, the warning shot. ‚She'll just make a deal. We need to prepare for-'

‚She didn't say a word when they ripped out her nails and beat her black and bloody. ‚Ash was positively sick. ‚She did not make any deal. She'll die in there, Daud. My friend Dr. Mirrik saw her.'

He bristled.

'Please don't do this.' Ash whispered. 'I know this face. This look. You are proud. She hurt that pride. But don't do that. Be better.'

 _Careful,_  his eyes said when his mouth didn't.

Ash swallowed hard. 'I know I have no right to ask. But-'

'Then don't ask.' Daud turned to the balcony.

'Please.' Ash said again.

* * *

Her mouth was dry and her hands hurt. Bloody trembling fingers worked, as she ripped the blanket apart. Knots were hard.

_Even if he wants to save me. He can't. He can't jeopardize his life, or the live of any other. And they won't stop . They're going to make it worse. No deal. Only pain. And only one way out._

She had waited until morning. One more day. Then Coldridge. She would not give them the triumph.

Who, she thought, would have guessed I could choose the easy way out?

The bars were good enough. They would do.

_For once I can't outrun it. And I won't talk. I won't ever do that again. I learned my share._

She waited for the shift. When the guard was done she forced her numb body up.

She had few tears. She just wanted it to be done.

Childish slung the cloth around her throat.

The cloth hugged her neck as she let go, foot scraping over the bare ground.

Then the world went dark as the air left her lungs.


	9. Chapter 8: Void dreams

When she opened her eyes, it was dark.

Dark, grey, and full of shadows that seemed to move along the walls.

The next thing she noticed was the fact she didn't feel cold. Or warm. She was barefoot but didn't feel anything.

Curious. If that was death she had hoped for it to be better. Maybe some beautiful creatures welcoming her. Or a light. Or that she was flying.

The ground became something else. Walls splintered, the bars of her cell were a door, and lights flickered like tiny spark. But despite that flickering light it was still dark.

The door opened without problems. If she was dead, there was no reason not to take a peek. What could happen? She'd get killed again? As she peeked in, she found nothing.

Really. Just an empty void.

_A void of dark dreams and lost hope. How very fitting._

Stones under her feet. Another step in, and she saw something in the distance that made her shiver.

A floating island, walls broken down, an empty chair, a broken window.

With a loud THOUD the door fell into the lock behind her.

'Oh no.' Childish whispered. She knew what this was.'Nononono.'

The door didn't budge as she threw herself against it.

Not here, she thought. Not now. Please. Nonononononono-

Panic flooded her veins.

'Please just let me go.' She whispered.' I have nothing of value for you. Just let me die.'

'That is, ' a voice said behind her, so close it made her flinch.'Not entirely true, Sara.'

As she turned around, Childish found herelf face to face with the one thing she had always been afraid of.

Black eyes bore right into her soul. He didn't move, just watch. Like an evil, big crow, dressed in black, he followed her ervery move.

'I didn't pray to you. Ever.' She managed to say, back against the door, hands fiddling with the knob. She knew it was useless. The fear was still there and it didn't help.

'Oh Sara, you think of me as a ghost, summoned to those who believe.' He was handsome, but that face,that body, it was like the place they stood in. It was not entirely real and not entirely true. It was different, a strange and alien thing. She trembled. 'But we both know that's not true either .'

'My father believed. My grandfather believed. And what did it do them good?'she spat the words , more courage in her voice than she would have guessed she could muster.

'Your father never really wanted anything, he only prayed for you and your mother.'

'Spare me.' Childish huffed.

'But that is exactly what I am doing right now, Sara.'

With a flicker, he was gone. She blinked. Took a deep breath.

'A game,old one?' She said, voice lost in endless depths as she stepped to the edge, looking down on floating islands.

When she looked back, another door had appeared in front of her.

'In due time,' the Outsiders voice said from nowwhere but was all around. ' You'll see what value you have to me.'

'It must be boring in the void if you think this game will be worth your while.' A trembling laugh escaped her mouth.

There were many islands now, all around.

_There was a boy, in a puddle of dirt,rats gathering around him, his mark the same she had witnessed on and touched on Daud's hand._

_There was a girl in white. A man holding her._

_A younger version of herself jumped down a roof, frozen and still, hair flying._

_Daud, not much older than the day she had left him behind on black dagger, with a younger Billie Lurk, fighting, teaching, patient._

What was present?What past? What was time? It meant nothing to a dead woman and a god in his realm.

'Old one, ' Childish whispered, gripping her head. 'I don't understand. And frankly, I don't care. Just let me go.'

_Ash lying in a bed, not much older than now, sick and pale._

_A child running through a filthy street, grey eyes and laughing face._

_A painting._

_Burning pyres._

_A circle drawn in blood and coal, edges rough and dangerous, a skull nearby._

_Shadows dancing everywhere._

Childish closed her eyes as she drifted by.

 _Things that could be._  A voice whispered.  _Not for certain. But they could be. They could happen now. They could happen never. They already happened._

'I don't understand.' She repeated.

'You will.'

She flinched again, breath stopping, as he appeared again.

'Your life still has value to me, Sara Verley. Be it only for those close to you. And the path you and your children will walk.'

'Children?' She furrowed her brow in confusion. ' You are wrong.'

'Not yet right doesn't mean wrong.' He almost sounded amused. She didn't like that in the slightest.

'I'd be a terrific mother, that is sure.' She bristled. 'And who would you want as a father for that brood?'

' I think we both know the answer for that question.' Arms behind his back, he studied her as he walked, so casual it only added to her confusion and fear. His face,as ageless and smooth as marble,stood pale in the dark tangled sky and corroding stones around them.

'I guess I do. But that will not happen.' The thought did things to her mind she couldn't understand. There was a strange warm happiness, a longing she didn't know to possess, and a very big pool of regret.'I'm a little old for daydreams.'

'What is a daydream if not a wish? And what is a wish if not a yearning one can fulfill?'

I have a philosophical talk with the god of madness and memories, she thought. Where is my tea? Let's make it a casual meeting on regular check.

'People are your puppets.'she said.'They dance on strings and you make them stumble or rise. I know the deals, the stories,old one. So, let us skip all the taradiddle and get to the point. What do you offer and what do I have to give?'

'I could grant you power.'he whispered, suddenly very close. Circling her like a dangerous predator his prey. 'Lend you an arm in escaping. In fighting. You always wanted that, penny snatcher Childish, being a big fighter.'

She stared at him in fear and confusion. 'You would give it to me?'

'I would.' Devilish black eyes glinting.' If only to see where it leads you.'

She bit her lip, staring at her hands. So close. So close ,escape would be easy. She'd be strong. She'd be invincible. She could-

Never running again. Never be afraid. Impress. And strive to life.

But what a life?

A better, a part of her urged. Take it. Seize the oppurtunity.

Say yes.

It's only a little word.

'No.'she took a step back.'I see where you lead. I have witnessed it my whole life. I have to decline the offer, old one.'

'Well then.' He looked at her before turning around. As if he suddenly had lost all interest in her. As if she was a terribly boring  _thing_. She probably was. She didn't feel sorry for his lack of entertainment.'Enjoy the fall,Sara Verley. And remember the things you witnessed.'

With a ragging breath she fell.

Cloth was ripping,the sling around her neck loosened.

With a toppling sound she fell to the ground, eyes closed, body hurting.

Her heart beat fast, and every little breath hurt in her throat.

She was barely concsious. But alive.

That bastard had brought her back.

If she had been able to, she would laughed and cried at the same time.

* * *

Feet scraped over the floor. Old, worn out leather boots grazing stone. Shackled hands hanging limpless in a grip of strong hands.

A pair of arms, stuffed a body into a seat.

Well guarded, eyes watching.  _Won't escape. Will sit your time and speak when you're told._

Silence between breaths. Not strained. The voices just didn't have anything to say.

It was dark before the headline of the car.

Cool leather, stained with something that could be old blood. Other people have sat here before. Maybe as jaded and scarred, as bloody as limp. Maybe fighting and screaming.

How many? Who knows?

Beams of light flickered.

When the railway car stopped dead in its tracks, the destination is far. The lights above the road were dead, and in the cones of the headlights there was nothing but the glittering metal of the rails.

One left the car. Two remained seated, like silent stone guardians.

Minutes passed. No one moved. No one spoke.

Then the door opened and a sword spilled new blood over the leather.A slit throat, a slash at the head. Precise and fast.

There are no words spoken. She turned her head, and smiled, through split,dry lips and blue beaten eyes.


	10. Chapter 9: A coat tugged tight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gaming and blankets make me lazy. But I promise I'll get the next arc and a few chapters done as fast as I can <3

All the way back was a blur, held in familiar arms, tugged into a red coat. A clear smell of blood, coppery, lingered in her nose but wasn’t able to overshadow the other. The smell of leather, and something dusky and simple, but pleasant. She didn’t smell much. But she concentrated on that. On the warmth. The wind cut in her hair and cheeks, but the coolness was not as unpleasant after the stale taste and smell of the cell. 

Maybe, she wondered, she hadn’t returned from the void. Maybe she was in her small personal world, trapped in daydreams and hope she had thought to abandon.  

If that was the case, the old one was doing her a favor she wouldn’t have deemed him capable of. 

Even with the blinking turning her stomach, she wasn’t trying to resist. Her body was tired.  

Her fingers were not able to hold to anything. It reminded her of the weeks on the ship after she had been fished out if the water. Back then, the wire had cut them s o bad she didn’t feel her hand at all, with the pinky standing into a bizarre curve where Gailvan’s boot had crushed it. It had taken months to do the most simple tasks. Yet alone climb and use lockpicks again. And it still was hard sometimes. 

Now they were numb too. But it was different. They trembled and burned, like sleeping nerves on fire. 

Nails grew back and cuts healed. Bruises would fade. She didn’t fear but hoped. What was a runner without legs? A singer without a voice? A thief without nimble fingers? 

She relied on him to carry her, dead meat on a hook. 

Leaning her brow on his jaw, she felt the tiniest stubble of a beard, how strange for someone always so meticulous and organized. 

The howling air and the swiftness in which they moved made it impossible to speak, and she was glad. She wouldn’t have known what to say. 

 _Sorry for staying? Thanks for saving me? Are_ _you_ _all_ _right_ _? Why did you come?_ _I thought about you a lot more than it is healthy while they beat me to death?_  

Well, that wasn’t unsettling at all. 

She remembered the moment the sword had pierced the guard next to her, the familiar sirring of metal against flesh. Surprise had caught them. Apparently, no one had thought she could be rescued. Least herself. 

Childish didn’t move. Even if she had been able to, surprise had got her good. 

It was over so fast. 

You came, you came for me, she thought, dazed. Impossible but all she had ever wanted. 

She wanted to sink down on the ground and cry and laugh, saying all the things she never had said and all he deserved. 

She would have wanted to kiss him, but she couldn’t bring herself to move, to touch another person willingly by herself. She was also sure he wouldn’t approve her trying to do that. 

And so Childish just smiled, weak. 

Her shackles were removed in silence. He didn’t even look her in the face. Metal clinking on the seat, a dead man carelessly slumped over the front seat, she was free. 

Still smiling as hard as she could, Childish tried her best to get out of the vehicle. His nostrils flared as he watched her struggle. Nothing more in his eyes or face. 

'You are too slow.’ he said. 

Composed and steady. It sang to her heart. 

She didn’t answer. Childish didn’t trust her voice. 

His eyes lingered on her destroyed hands, the torn and angry wounds on her skin, the bruises marking her arms and face, telling stories of threats and disgust. 

She blinked hard. Even that hurt.  

When he grabbed her arms, pulling her out of the seat, she let him. He was by no means careful, but there was no violence either. The next thing she knew she was tugged in a coat and under a strong arm, moving fast. 

Time was not existent as they moved through the city. 

She had adjusted her weight as good as she could, and somewhere in the attempt, her legs had slung around his waist, her body leaning on his, head resting in the crook of his neck, where skin met the cloth of a shirt. 

One useless arm slung around his back, the other hanging lifeless, her body moved up and down, rocking along with his breath. 

Daud was silent. It wasn’t the silence of walls screaming in her mind, or the unpleasant silence that promised pain was about to come. 

Just the silence of a man carrying a burden through safe paths. The silence of someone who did not have to speak. A waste of breath, she thought, when one has to be quick and fast. 

And maybe he didn’t want to. But what did she care?  

The beating of his pulse on her nose and arms tight around her were enough. 

If this was her personal world, her dearest wish. The maddest fantasy. Childish was perfectly fine to spend the afterlife with it. 

Her eyes were heavy, and his steps lulled her into an uneasy slumber.  

 

* * *

 

Draped into his arms, tugged into a red coat, she looked like a tiny bird. Ash felt releasing a long breath full of relief. 

'You did it. Of course you-‘ Daud’s eyes fixed Ash in the most uncomfortable way. 

It held true to the way Ash imagined to be the coldest ice storm in the north. Ash gulped hard. 

'I mean, I never questioned-‘ Ash fiddled with his hands. 

'But you did.’ Daud stated. 

Ash lowered his gaze. 'I'm sorry, Sir.’ 

‘ Don’t ever try to question me. Or fool me, for that matter.’ Daud said and it was all there was to say. Ash didn’t want to imagine the consequences. 

 _It’s a challenge you would not win, Ashley._  

 Childish stirred in her sleep, destroyed lips moving slightly. 

There was something in the way the older man eyed her that Ash didn’t know to place. His hand held the sleeping woman in place, and Ash saw his fingers tangled in her short hair, careful.  

'Should I take her?' Ash offered.’I know I was the one responsible for this mess. We wouldn’t bother you?' 

'Let her sleep.’ Daud said as if it was the most obvious and stupid question someone had ever asked him. 

Ash stared at Daud’s back and watched him disappear around a corner, sleeping bundle of a body still attached. He didn’t dare to disagree.  

 

* * *

 

 _Black eyes boring into her soul._  

Your life still has value to mme. 

 _Skin ripping under fists._ _Blood in her mouth._ _Sh_ _e kept it close. For the first time, she wouldn’t dare to speak._  

 **_You will wish you took the deal._ **  

 _The makeshift noose, closing around her throat._  

 _Hands,_ _hands_ _gripping. Voices yelling._  

A hand was touching her, careful. No pain, but cool relief. 

Childish shot up. A man was leaning over her, hazel eyes wide in surprise. Someone had bandaged her cut fingers, where the man had ripped off her nails and her skin, flaying her. 

'I'm not going to say anything!' She yelled, voice dry and rough like sandpaper was stuck in her throat. 

'It's all right.' The man said. 'Please calm down.' 

All right? Nothing was all right. Her bandaged hands hurt as she got up. 

He scurried backward and she got up, it hurt. Panic shot through her head, ringing in her ears. 

'Let me go. I won't talk. I won't say a word.' Panic and fear fighting in her chest. 

'I'm here to help-' 

'no no no' her head was spinning and she wanted to vomit.' No, not true. You're just saying it to make me talk.' 

'I know you feel disoriented and sick.' The kindly man was familiar, somehow, voice soothing but strong. 'But I promise, you won't be hurt.' 

'Don't play nice.' Limping, pain shot through her chest. 

'I am just here to help.' The kindly looking man said. 

She knew him. She remembered his face. 'I-you.' He was a doctor. He had held her hands before in the cell. The memory of the cell was fresh, she remembered the cold ground and rattling bars, the guard. Shaking it off was hard. She almost didn’t manage. 'You're the bloke Ash is so in love with.' 

‘That's certainly good to know.' the doctor mused, friendly, not trying to get any closer. 'My name is Henry.' 

'What happened? Where am I?' 

'I told you. You're safe. Don't you remember how you got here?' 

'Is this real?' She asked and knew what he would think. 

Her breath was still hitching and her ears ringing. 

She couldn't calm herself. 

'It is very real.’ the doctor's voice said. Her head was spinning like it had when Daud had blinked her through the air. 'Please try to calm down. I won’t hurt you.’ 

Sinking down on the bed again, something caught her eye. It was a coat. 

A red coat. 

Arms, and the coat tugged around her. She had thought it to be a dream. 

She struggled to grip anything with her hands but managed to snatch it between her palms. 

It was warm, she had been sleeping on it. 

She concentrated all her will on this piece of clothing, breathing in and out slowly. 

'That's very good.' Henry whispered.' You're safe, I promise. Can I come closer?' 

In and out, slowly, calmness returned. Hands stopped shaking, ears stopped ringing. 

'Yes,' she huffed. ‘Yes, of course, Doctor, I am sorry. I don't know what made me chicken so much.' 

'It's pretty normal to be afraid after what happened.' He wanted to sound reassuring but did not. Not to her. She had been through hell her whole life, and suddenly violence was touching her? Fear was a friend, caution a companion, but this panic... 

The doctor's hands worked as careful as his eyes lingered over her hunched body. 

'Ash got me. I am glad to see you made it out.’ 

Yes, made it out. Her hammering heart was very alive. 

'Where is-' She stared at the coat. ‘Did you see anyone?' 

'I am not allowed to know anything in case I get caught. ‘The doctor touched the red lines on her neck. Childish flinched.’ It’s the first time I ever sat foot in this place.’ 

Strange how a house full of killers was the safest place to be. 

Strange at all, to be safe. Childish held the coat as tight as she could. 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	11. Chapter 10: Moths

Billie Lurk moved on the tip of her toes, crawling along the wall like a shadow, cast from the flickering lights of the lanterns outside. Moths circled around it, silent, wings silver in the halo that drew them in.

Like the moths, Billie didn't make a sound.  _In and out_ , no one would see, no one would notice. Until it was too late.

She was a weapon, and a good one at that. She needed to be. The other option was a slow and painful death. Not too keen on that.

Billie Lurk wanted to live. She always had been a survivor. But living was more.

Your heart was always beating, but when you felt the way the blood rushed through your veins in excitement, it was worth it. When your muscles tensed, when you were in  _control._

Daud had taught her how to pick a lock. How to swing a sword in a way that would sever a man's arm of his body. She felt inclined to believe that meant something. He had taught her to be patient. Without him, she would have been dead.

It was all but life and death ,and between that, nothing much but fighting.

Feet , clumsy and loud, bumped over the stairs. They came closer.

She waited until he was very close before gripping his neck. Feeling the cords of muscles under her arms fight as she held on tight, he struggled, but couldn't alarm anyone downstairs.

He smelled of gin , tingly sharp and sweet. The smell was so strong Billie wasn't sure he had not only drank it but bathed in it too. With a sigh the man finally gave up.

She dragged him along, back to where she came from. Careful, but still as fast as possible, she tossed his body down, on the balcony, before returning.

Shouts and drunken whistles became louder , as the gang got wild and excited. They were muffled, but she still guessed it to be at last a fairly huge group.

Daud had taught her how to pick a lock. How to swing a sword in a way that would sever a man's arm of his body. She hadn't forgotten any lecture, as she got to work on the door.

Her trusty sword , an extension of her hand, rested in the palm of her hand.

They were two, she was one. Nothing mattered as her sword sliced through skin.

Up until a third of them cut her arm, just above the curve of her elbow.

_A trap, how neat._

She was a whirlwind of gritted teeth and steel.

A bolt went sirring past her face, burying deep in a throat. A drawn pistol cluttered to the ground.

'You're late.' she winced rolling her shoulder, feeling the blood warm and hot.

'Sorry. Some trouble downstairs.' Ash's hand touched her arm, the other held his mask.' Looks nasty.'

'It's nothing.'she shrugged.'Mask on and move.'

'Talk about trust issues,'he muttered. 'I just want to help.'

'If that is true you should stop playing with the other kids and do what you are told.'

He sighed, brow furrowed. ' Is this about Childish,Lurk? I don't get you.'

She ignored him, kneeling down over the corpse. Eyes on the price. He was always one for talk.

'I told you to move,' she repeated, and her voice was as much sharp metal as the sword in her hand.

'Yes, Ma'am.' She could hear his meaning all too well.  _We'll talk later,Lurk,bet on it._

* * *

_Cuts and bruises heal fast. Pride doesn't._

No one was more aware of that as Childish, as she sat on the roof, back on the chimney, looking over the city.

A single crow was circling over the sky, croaking, wings coal black in the grey light that fell through the clouds.

But Childish wasn't watching the bird.

Her eyes were locked on a backyard below. A small child, maybe 3, had sat down inside a puddle, soiling ist clothes. Hair hanging in its eyes, the little girl had started built a little pile of mud. Her dirty little fingers piled the dirt up like it was the most precious toy she had ever seen, and Childish couldn't stop to watch and to smile.

HArd to imagine, that one could be so innocent, that they all had been born so innocent and that the dirt that was the life had soiled them into hardenen shells.

Hallow fates, and circumstances, withering lifes away and making others bloom.

Her bandaged hands grabbed the hem of the red coat she had hung around her shoulders, like a blanket.

'I knew I would find you here.' A voice said, and Childish smiled, but didn't avert her gaze from the little girl in the mud.

'Did you come to get your coat?'

'And if I did?' His voice trailed closer over the tiles. Out of the corner of her eyes she mostly saw his boots, moving over the tiles, before she looked back at the little girl in the mud. Content, she seemed.

Childish still smiled. 'Then take it.'

'Without any objection?' Daud sat down beside her. Their arms brushed, and for a second she thought of a meeting on a bridge, and tales of warm light and crystal clear water.

She couldn't say how much she had missed the warmth that radiated from his body as their sides were brushing against each other, every breath she took.

No room between them, and no room for lies. No time to run.

'You take what is yours. That's what we do,no?'

They weren't only talking about his coat, and they both knew it.

'And we protect it.'

Now she looked at him, still smiling. ' Fiercely so, I'd wager.'

His regarded her in a mixture of many things. Foremost , she found him calm, and as always, he was watching closely. But there was something else, something she hoped not to imagine.

'How are your fingers?'

Her hands were still clasped around his coat, and she let go, as she noticed his eyes. 'Healing, nice of you to ask.'

He scoffed softly. 'I am not asking to be nice, Sara.'There was the gruffness she had missed so dearly.

No, Childish thought, you wouldn't need to play nice. But yet, here we are, dancing again, like we always do. How will it end this time?

'If you had done what I proposed,' Daud said. ' Your hands would be fine.'

She chuckled. ' Ah, but you know jolly me, I never do what you ask.'

The crow coraked above their heads before disappearing behind a chimney, wings flapping loudly.

'Will you try to send me away again?' Her heart ached a little,if only for a second,as she thought about ships she usually loved so dearly. There was no adventorous sense in her now, with dreams dark and coal black eyes that had watched her. Night promised terror like it hadn't done for years.

'No.' He shook his head ever so slightly. She took a moment to study the sharp line of his nose, his grey eyes,dark and thoughtful, the line of his jaw. She'd done that before, countless times.

'You'd just trick me again. Do something even more ridicilous.'

Childish shrugged.'It's mostly not as ridiculous as people make it out.'

'No more meddling.'

'Aye sir,' she slatued in mock. Terribly sad,she loved meddling so much.

'Keep a low profile.'

'I always do.'

He glared at her, clearly a little annoyed.'Drawing moustaches on paintings is not considered low profile.'

'I knew you'd appreciate my art.' She grinned.

'I don't.'He was so terribly serious she grinned even more.

Coughing a chuckle, she shifted her weight beside him.

Her eyes wandered down again, to the child in the dirt. The little girl had stopped playing and started to smear the mud all over her clothes and face.

Childish watched a young woman appear in the yard. She didn't yell when she saw the dirt upon the child. Her daughter, she assumed. Instead Childish saw the most genuine smile on her face.

'Did you ever wonder,' Childish asked, eyes watching the woman pulling up the child in an embrace.'What it would be like? A family? Not chasing along your purpose..just being?'

'You'd be bored fast.' Daud assured her leaning forward.'And I don't like just being. I built something, Sara, and I know what I am.'

We both do, she thought.

'No point in wondering then.' She loosened his coat, parting from it made her shiver. 'Your coat.'

His hand stopped her, pushing the heavy cloth back up her shoulder.‚Keep it,it's cold up here.'

She held on to the offer gladly.‚It's a fancy coat,by the way.'she remarked, while snuggling in the too long sleeves.

He had patience with her. 'You already told me that.'

'I did? Oh,yes. The night Ash followed me from Rivenis house.' Curious. It seemed like a lifetime ago. It had been but weeks.

For a while they watched the backyard again, silent but content in one another's company.

She found him as steady as ever when she leaned against his side. She wondered if she would ever stop to notice that. But when things got shaky she couldn't let go of that one thing. And things got shaky so often.

On sea, Childish remembered, she had often been found in the same spot, a corner far from the others below deck,in the darkness of steel. Brimming engines and floating waves had calmed her, as they echoed through the room like a heartbeat, singing her to sleep.

It was the same as he had carried her. She hadn't even thanked him. When she tried to,the words formed in her head sounded hollow and wrong.

‚You know that feeling in your gut?' he was so close his voice vibrated in her bones.' Tells you to trust the instinct.'

A feeling in the gut,a shiver on the spine. Urging one to do something , or leave it. Childish nodded.

' There's something that tells me this isn't over.'

She looked up,alarmed for a moment.'You mean I fluked it?'

Daud' s jaw clenched as he seemed to weight his words on his tongue.'Could be. But the man you killed wasn't innocent.'

'Oh for the love of-‚ she rolled her eyes at him. 'I didn't mean to  _kill the fellow._  I wanted him to piss his pants and surrender.'

'Intentions mean shit to dead people, Sara.'  _Take it from someone who knows._

'Just so we are clear, darling dear, I meant to hand him over to you.'

Hir eyebrows moved only in the slightest bit. ‚How very noble.'

'Are you  _mocking_  me?' she clicked her tongue. ‚Scandalous.'

When his nostrils flared, exhaling sharply, she had to hide a smile. So much smiling,it hurt. But he was right. What did intentions use a dead girl on the sandy shore? Or a man that had wanted to run away so bad he hadn't watched his step? Noble intentions could even hurt the one's alive badly. It had caused her enough pain to knot a noose.

Whatever she would do, she wouldn't tell him that. Not when she had proven herself with all this blood. But the way his eyes had taken in the red line on her throat said enough.

Childish sniffed loudly while taking another look around. ' Where is your shadow,by the way?'

'Lurk has tasks to carry out. And unlike other noisy women she has some common sense and does as she is asked.'

' Know a lot noisy women?' Childish asked,cheeky.

'Only one that matters.' There was something in the way he regarded her that made her glad . Glad that she had stayed silent through all the pain.

' Introduce us,I bet she's dashing and gorgeous.'

'She could be smarter.' he answered without missing a beat.

'If she were even more brilliant,' Childish couldn't help but tease back' she'd not be in need of you. Be grateful.'

A little dry laugh escaped his lips.

'Thank you.' she finally decided to say. 'For pulling my sorry arse out of the fire. Again.'

She left the rest unsaid. About her being a nuisance,dead weight he could have simply left to rot in Coldridge.

He didn't answer for a very long time.

Then Daud stood up, extending a hand to her.

‚Come on.'

Childish grabbed it without thinking. His fingers were cold as he pulled her up by the wrist.

As they moved back, using the smallest ledge. Her hand protested, but she got through with it.

When Childish swung back inside, feet sweeping over carpet, she found Daud watching her.

Parting from the coat was harder than expected. Silly her. It was just a coat. But it had helped her to hold onto reality. Digits stiff , she fiddled with the buttons. Soon, she promised herself and his eyes, I'll be all right, never worry.

That night she slipped into his room, curling up beside him, but careful not to touch. If she had touched him, she was afraid, she’d wake up and find he still hated her. Or worse. Just disappeared.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am a little sick(yeah no really, snow got me a pretty bad cold) but I will try to post at least two more chapters by the end of the week


	12. Chapter 11 :The silver waif

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh no I didn't.

Curtains , barely moving as he got in the window, were the rich colour of blood. The plush carpet made no sound under his boots It was a pitch black, like the fur of a dead animal or the deepest void between two houses in the night. The colours of his profession. 'Hello Smiles.'

The eyes of the woman were dark as her dress, wide open as she scrambled to her feet. But her face retained the old grace fast.

'Who would have thought I'd ever have the pleasure.' Her painted lips were forming a smile.' I've heard much, for sure. I also heard you broke a mutual friend of ours out of a transport to Coldridge.'

'I'm not in the mood for games.' Daud said and stepped closer.

'No games.' She tugged a green coat tighter around her form. He stopped, watching. Did she really think he didn't notice the gun in that coat? 'Just honest care for my dear old friend Sara Childish.'

'And you've sold that friend so profitly.' His gaze made her smile a little shaky.

'Did you come to kill me?'

'I came because you have information. After you helped me..or refused. Who knows.'

Her whole painted mask of a face smiled, but through the cracks was seeping nothing but hatred and fear. It was like the stale air, barely breathable through the haze of cheap rose perfume.

'No cares about one less whore, hm?' she drawled.

'We start easy. The names of the guards that questioned you.'

'So it is personal indeed. 'Her gloved hand reached down, gripping the pistol hidden at her side.

He ducked as she shot, rolling himself over her plush carpet.

As she tried to reload, his hand grabbed her arm, bringing it down. The pistol was as fast gone as the air had left her lungs when she gasped.

'Names. Now.'

'They came to me the night Jeremy Pointman died.' She was sobbing. Big tears streaming down her face, washing away the black lines and making her look miserable. He almost could believe it, but her eyes weren't miserable at all. They promised to repay him.' I keep tabs on a lot of people and I hear things. But I didn't know that name. They said he was a murderer. That he had killed a seamstress years ago. They hurt me.' Her voice quivered. 'So I ratted her out, that penny monger, fresh back in the city and always putting her nose in matters she clearly didn't belong to. She never even paid attention. I have their names and homes in one of those papers hidden behind my drawer.' Wincing, she tried to fight his grip. Useless. Her tear streaked face became angry. 'That's all, you bastard.'

'Now to the other part. I am guessing after the guard told you Pointman was a murderer, you followed their interest and did your job.'

'Wouldn't' t you love to know THAT?' Her dark eyes were sparkling. ' I bet the guards had their fun with our dear Sara. They do love it rough. 'She scowled at him like a cat that someone had pulled up by the tail.' I want a deal.'

'No games, no deal. 'As he twisted her wrist, the sound of bones and muscles was as familiar as the sounds of the river, beating like blood through dried up hearts. She gasped again, louder. He blinked at her, waiting, counting breaths.

'No deal no talk.' She pressed through gritted teeth.

_1._

_He took a deep breath._

She hissed at him in anger, all angry face and mop of curls.

_He exhaled._

As he tightened his grip on her wrist, Tenna Smiles made a last wailing sound before she yelled: 'I'll tell you all!'

He finally let go of her arm , sending the woman toppling on the carpet.

'Start. And don't try to lie or stall.'

* * *

Henry's bedroom was barely big enough to hold the bed that was somehow squeezed inside.

His boots were lying in front of the bed. Ash leaned down, picking one up, when his eyes found the canvas.

He looked at the silver splotches in darkness, hypnotic but rotten. Ash had seen it before, but never really noticed it. It was probably the most expensive looking thing in Henry Mirrik's possession. As long as one of his arms , the canvas was framed in a simpler silver metal, the same silver as the figures and splotches dancing along the dark image.

Henry smiled, leaning his head against Ash's shoulder blade.

'You like it?'

He forgot about the boot for a second, as the dark colours attracted his attention. 'I'm..not sure.. it's something else.'

Ash studied the painting intently, trying to make out every grey line that formed the foggy figure.

A single ghost like figure creeping over a floating island. There was something very strange about the curling lines. Ash was no artist not would he ever be. Childish had ripped out one or two paintings out of their frames on their raids, back when she had been working for Crispin, but most of those had been portraits or simple but bright coloured lighthouses and beaches. This was none of those. It was abstract, bizarre.

'A dear friend painted it .'Henry sighed at Ash's back. 'We parted on bad terms. Different view points on the important matters.'

'You never talk about your youth.'

'Not much to say, really. 'Henry's hand moved under Ash's shirt. _He_ doesn't want to talk at all, Ash thought amused and felt a pleasing shiver on his skin where Henry touched him. ' I Iived with my very poor mother before my uncle got me out. He was dirty rich and I got to study. Then I fell from grace and came here.'

'I lost my mother young. She was very sick.' Ash said, trying to concentrate on the image before him. A little signature was hidden on one side of the island, so small he had to squint his eyes to read it.

'I know. Far too many people do.'

'D.'Ash whispered, wondering what kind of person created a painting so eerie grim but still quite beautiful.

'It's called the silver waif. 'Henry whispered back at the shell of his ear.

'It's not ugly.' Ash pondered, letting his gaze wander to Henrys arm around him. 'I WANT to look at it. But I feel like it could swallow me when I look too long.'

'You're honest, that's what I like about you.'

'Thanks,' Ash smiled and turned around in the other man's grasp, away from the framed image. 'I really need to leave.'

'What's keeping you?'

_As if you didn't know, doctor._

The boot he had tried to put on slid from his foot, cluttering on the ground.

 _The silver waif_ watched over their tangled limbs and brushing skin in cold silence.

* * *

You are hunting ghosts, Tenna Smiles voice echoed through his head.

Ghosts? No. People made of flesh and blood.

The only ghosts around were of other nature.

_Moira was the seamstress name, and it's sure for certain Jeremy killed her. But he didn't pay a guard to look away, they all did. No one cared. No one complained.. Whatever Moira did , she was worth a pardon dead._

Dirt streaked the floor, mud on the soles of his shoes as he walked over the wooden ground.

A small figure lay huddled in his bed, half hidden under a blanket, not completely asleep, but not awake, as it seemed, by the shallow breaths.

_But I don't think he killed the other girls. Yes they were similar in looks to Moira but they were younger and maids, uniform and all. I have knowledge that , whoever did this, broke into their homes. The watch covered that up very nicely. It's almost impossible to prove. Your better half got you on a wrong trail._

So eager to prove yourself, he thought, unbuckling his gun and the sword leaning it against the side of the desk. The clunking noise made Childish leap up. He could see the panic in her ruined face and the instant ease after her eyes found him.

'Good you're back. 'she said, sniffing and scrambling to her bare feet. 'Was starting to worry.'

Slipping out of his coat, he gave her a long look, but didn't say anything.

 _You have two options, as I see it,_ Tenna's dark eyes sparkled. _You follow Pointman and find out why he was pardoned ,and maybe, a very small maybe, that leads you to the actual killer of the other girls, or you wait until that one strikes again and I find out as much as I can until then. I'll be useful alive anyway._

'There's blood.' Her voice was hoarse. Her hands grabbed his shirt in panic. 'You've blood all over-'

'Not mine.' When his hands started to unbutton his shirt, her hand wandered along his shoulder.

'Not yours-oh bollocks, Daud.' She stared at the trail of mud he had left, then back at him, still gripping his shoulder. 'You said you wanted to have a chat. Did that somehow turn into digging through the river and killing a bunch of people?'

He wasn't in the mood for discussions. Brushing past her, he got to his bed. 'Leave it, Sara.'

'You haven't heard the end of it.' She promised.

'I'm sure.'


	13. Chapter 12: Crinkles

' Oh my.' Childish said, turning a page of the paper, licking her finger in the process.'That's not good. People selling that kind of fish deserve to be slapped in the face with it. I'm on that customers side.'

Daud's face made the tiniest rising brow in history but he didn't look up.

As he sat on his desk, she'd made it her mission to lounge around his room, mostly silent. Her feet lifted up as she put them on his desk almost swiping off the whole interior.

He brushed them away, and she put the paper down.

'Careful.' Was all he said. She put the paper back up. Her feet though, stayed down.

'Nothing exciting seems to happen in this town. Or at least it isn't going to get printed.'

He huffed. 'People use to read headlines and frontpages first, Sara.'

Rustling of paper as she turned the pages again.

'Campell-Abbey-'Childish read. 'Meh. Oh, some one broke in- Nah. Lost me. Where have you been at this past days?'

'Why would you need to know that?'

'Because you were gone the whole night and returned covered in mud and blood. Obviously you had a blast.'

Daud didn't say anything, not looking up from whatever he was working on.

'Fair warning.' she decided to continue. 'I'm not going to clean up after you again.'

'I thought you wanted to make yourself useful.' The way his eyes brushed over her wasn't to her liking at all.

'Yeah, bummer, not like this. I am not your maid or your prisoner.'

'I don't see anyone tying you to a bedpost like the last time you visited.'

Daud's voice was dry as sandpaper. Funny one, was he today?

'That's because,' she stared at him intently over the brim of her paper.' I think we both now being tied to a bedpost in our current arrangement would have more advantage than loss.'

His hand brushed over the piece of paper and she felt loosing her thin running patience.

'Why don't you tell me so I can stop nagging?'

'You don't stop ever.'

'Ouch. I have feelings,you know?' The paper flew in a high bow down to the ground. ' A lot. Why are you so defensive about it?'

'You don't want to know.'

And she couldn't tell if he was bluffing. But she wanted to believe him.

'You've been so busy, I never get to cuddle. Are you meeting someone? You smelled of roses yesterday.'She sniffed. 'Beside that whole blood and dirt, I mean. Very faint but quite distinct.'

'Who knew you had such a keen nose?' He grabbed her face, fingers around her cheeks as she pouted. 'Now leave it be.'

'Full of surprises, Daud, you know it.'

He bristled before he answered. 'I went to Tenna Smiles.'

'Tenna Smiles as in Tenna Smiles who sold me to the guards? I don't know if I should be alarmed or flattered.' Her mind wandered back to the blood on his shirt. A lot of blood. Maybe he was right. Maybe she really wanted no knowledge of that.

* * *

It was the battling of wills, steeled minds. Hands were calm, not trembling. Their bodies didn't betray them.

The young man swallowed, only sightly visible. His sandy blond hair hang in his eyes as he looked up from his hands.

Ash was sitting on the other side of the table. Their silent staring continued.

One of them had to move. The decisions were made.

' I win again.' Ash finally said, putting the cards down. Faces were staring smug from the cards up to the other man. Stained with rings, and not completely new, they told their own stories of drinking nights and disputes, of lost luck and won favour.

A small amount of coins on Ash's side and very little on Thomas side spoke a clear language.

A winning streak indeed.

Thomas cursed under his breath. His cards scattered over the table as he let go of them. No faces, just numbers. 'You can't be that lucky.'

Without a word, Ash reached to the little stash of coins between the two men.

Billie Lurk, who had watched Ash's hands very closely while leaning her head in the palm of her own, gloved hand, smirked. ' Because he is not. He's cheating.'

Ash smiled, friendly, green eyes still very much on the pile of coins. His hand had frozen. 'And can you prove that?'

'You win since you started to shuffle the deck.' Billie got one of Ash's cards, looking at it from both sides. 'See that little crinkle? Old trick. He counts the crinkles and knows what cards to NOT give you.'

'Got me,Lurk.' Ash said, shoving all the money back on Thomas side of the table. 'Sorry Thomas. I know I am all fair game usually. But I owe Henry a LOT of money.'

'The doctor is your lover, and a tame man. He'll wait patiently if you give him a kiss.' Billie said, uncrinkling the cards with careful and precise movements, mocking only slightly.

'He's not really my lover.' Ash crinkled his nose.

'We all know where you go at night, Ashley,' Thomas stated, putting his money back in a satchel.

Ash crossed his arms.'When did a game of cards become discussing my love life?'

'When you cheated.' Thomas said, scratching his chin.

Ash rolled his eyes. 'I hate the lot of you. Ungrateful little-'

'Careful, one might think you mean what you say.'

Billie was still half smirking when her head whipped around.

' Look who's decided to stop chasing Daud's tail.' She murmured under her breath. When Ash looked up, he found Childish walking close by.

Thomas eyes followed, but his look wasn't half as unfriendly, more uninterested. 'Just punch her,Lurk, like you did when we met.'

Ash could see the sense in that statement. Thomas had a diplomatic backbone.

Sneaking around in a house full of supernatural assassins, even when they were on break, wasn't as easy as Childish probably would have thought. Three pair of eyes with various interest watched her move along.

'I saw her having a chat with Galia earlier. She's making a friend.'Thomas leaned back in his old creaking chair,arms behind his head.

Ash only shrugged. He knew nothing of Galia Fleet beside the colour of her hair and the way her mouth curved when he talked to Lurk. Childish was old enough to know which people were to her liking

'Snakes don't make friends.'Billie huffed in clear disgust, though she didn't make clear if that was for Galia Fleet or Childish. Probably both.

'You should really just hit something, Lurk. ' Thomas stood by his opinion, rocking the chair back and forth.'Get it over with.'

'Tried punching Fleet.' One of the corners of her mouth lifted in a smile. The card in Billies hand suffered the fate of getting crushed into a tight ball between her palms. ' Couldn't stop and wasn't allowed to continue.'

Thomas and Ash shared a long glare over the table. As much as Ash was keeping his distance from the other whalers , he still recognised the streams of comrades and bad blood, of dedication and hard hearts. And Thomas had a knack for holding them together anyway. He was friendly with nearly everyone. As unimpressed as he acted ,he knew the lot of street rats gathered, sleeping along him.

'Then maybe hit something... _in another way_.' Thomas proposed.

Billie's eyebrows shot up. 'You saying I should get laid?'

'Works with Ashley.' Thomas shrugged, continuing to rock back and forth on the ramshackle chair.

'Now can we stop discussing my love life,' Ash whispered, pinching the bridge of his nose.' thank you very much, Thomas.'

Her eyebrows moved up. 'You offering,Thomas?'

' Ma'am, I am not.'

'This is why I am avoiding social calls,' Ash shook his head.'Especially with you two.'

Before anyone could say anything, Childish decided to stop snooping around, probably because she hadn't found much.

She approached the doorstep, leaning against the frame. Bruises fading into green, her face wasn't as ruined anymore. Ash was glad for that recovery.

'Lovely day, innit ?' Billie Lurk looked like she had bitten in a very sour apple as the other woman smiled at her.

'Other murderous henchman,' Childish greeted Thomas friendly.'Ash.'

'Ma'am.' Thomas said, unimpressed. Ash watched Childish mouth twitch.'What brings you?'

'Yes, Ma'am,' Billie said, putting emphasis in every word.'What do we owe the pleasure?'

'Care to join?' Ash offered, ignoring the daggers Lurks eyes were glaring at him.' I was just stopping to cheat.'

'But that's half the fun!'

'If you win, sure.' Thomas dismissed.

'I understand the sentiment of loosing too well.' Childish nodded. ' Anyway,I just came for Ash.'

Lurk stood up dangerously slow. It reminded Ash of her way to draw a dagger, right before she sliced a man's throat.

Ash could not stop but notice her clear distaste, and he didn't fail to notice the same teeth-gritting tension in Childish. Watching grown women stomping their feet at each other was the strangest thing ever.

_‚Why do we keep her ?' Billie had asked._

_Ash had shrugged.' I asked Daud to not kill her. And she could be useful. I think.'_

_He didn't say the obvious. He was sure someone as observant as Billie had caught wind of the way they brushed along each other, or that she was wearing clothes too big. Or where she slept,for that matter. Enough clues about her relationship with Daud, even for a blind man. Or how Ash was still watching out._

_‚Useful? Did you look at her? At what she does?'_

_‚Yeah , I know Childish can be just like what her name has to offer, but believe me. She's not that bad to have.'_

_‚Shes obnoxious,loud, and she made fart sounds the last time I told her to stop fiddling around.'_

_Ash smiled a little. 'Sounds like her, I apologize.'_

Thomas had decided the pot too hot to take it from the stove and retreated with a stealth that made his profession proud. Ash shuffled the cards in his hands that Lurk had abandoned on the table.

They circled each other like scavengers, fighting for the last scrap before Billie Lurk decided to take her leave.

Phew Ash made relieved, through his teeth.

Childish looked almost surprised as he was easing up, rolling his shoulders. Her freckled nose twitched, like a rodent. Though, he thought, watching closely,it was not from tasting the air and fleeing but more from flaring her nostrils in an attempt not to chuckle. 'That went not half as bad as I imagined.'

'What did you expect?' Ash asked her.

Her voice dripped from sarcasm.' I thought we'd braid each others hair. But look at you,my lad, playing cards and chatting, so popular.'

'I have been here for over 6 years.' his voice sounded sharper than he intended. He carelessly threw the cards down, the flurried over the table, forming an abstract pattern.' You are here for what? A week?Two? It also doesn't help you are hiding in our leaders bedroom.'

A flash of panic seemed to go through her face before she shrugged.'It's cozy.'

'If you say so. I really don't need to know what you two do.'

'Talk, mostly.'she shrugged.'You'd be disappointed. Or maybe not,I mean there has been some mingling-'

He pressed his lips together in a tight line as she looked at him, very smug. 'I get the picture. People here consider you a pet, by the way. That or you're trying to sleep your way up.'

_Not that anyone would dare to say that directly into Daud's face._

'Sleeping my way up in this merry band of murderers?' she laughed,dry.' Oh my.'

'Make fun all you want.'Ash sighed.'You made an enemy out of Lurk. That was a grave mistake.I am trying to help you, Childish.'

'I see how it is.' her hand reached up, long scarred lines faded, next to newer ones, red and angry on pale skin. She patted his cheek in an affectionate manner. 'Well, if Billie Lurk wants a fight,she can have one, for all I care. My face is ruined already.'

 _This_ , Ash thought in disdain, _would end badly._


	14. Chapter 13: Sewer Blues

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Or: The merry misadventures of Billie Lurk and Sara Childish

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, that's the longest chapter yet. Have a treat, you are wonderful, Laura <3

_Or: The merry misadventures of Billie Lurk and Sara Childish_

* * *

If there ever had been a time when Childish and Billie Lurk couldn't agree more, aside from their deepest, inner desire to kick each other in the face, it was probably the moment the two men decided to drop their cover and go for it. They could have used their element of surprise in a far better way, Childish thought as a gunshot rang through the air, hitting bricks beside her. Stone splintered and Billie Lurk ducked.

It was a pistol and a sword against a sword and a whole arsenal of weapons and tricks.

Fighting alongside Lurk in the dark stale pit that was the entrance to a lair of rats and shit proved better than expected.

Professional, one might call it.

The first man dropped dead as soon as he left cover.

A dagger buried in his stomach the same time a bolt hit his throat. The second had a sword. When Childish's sword clashed with his, she saw the red coat out of the corner of her eye. It was all over very fast, and strangely enough, Lurk did not stab her. Not now, at least.

'That was stupid.' Billie Lurk said, muffled.

'Yes, but almost understandable.' Childish blew out a stream of air into the neverending tunnels.'Your mask has a reputation, and I'd shit my pants too if one of you blokes would appear on my doorstep.'

If Billie Lurk's eyes would have been visible, Childish was pretty positive the other woman would have glared at her.

'I don't think there is more of them.' Her boot turned the body of one of the dead around. 'They are just scavengers.'

'Told you there were some goodies left and hidden.' Childish inspected the crate the man had been hiding behind. 'See that symbol? It was one of Jones' years ago. That minx wasn't stupid. Well, in the end, she was, and that's why we have the hatters and the eels throwing hissy fits at each other. Her employment wasn't that terribly well paid and she was a mean old bitch. No wonder her people decided to wander into other territories.'

'Yes, I always forget you are that old.' Billie Lurk strolled casually along the brick wall, inspecting the other crates. All were empty.

'Eh,' Childish retrieved her dagger, cleaning the blade on the shirt of the man it had killed.'I am not old, I am refined. And I won't take the bait, Lurk.'

_Not now, at least._

'Let's keep moving,' Lurk said, and Childish complied, though her most inner being bristled and frowned at taking orders.

'How deep do you usually wander?' She asked, watching Billie Lurk maneuvering around puddles and piles of rubble.

'I don't.' The other woman answered, sour. ' I am just babysitting you. I'm sure Ashley told you it's nothing special.'

* * *

'It's a patrol,' she had said. 'I am not breaking into the palace. Though that would be an idea...'

'Who told you about this anyway?'

'Psh, darling I live in your bedroom I know it all.'she brushed him off.

_Ash didn't do it, she wanted to say, but that was too suspicious. That's business as usual, he had said, shrugging it off, patrolling around, even the sewers down sometimes. No ugly surprises._

'Crispin and I got down there often, he had hideouts and contrabands in the whole system. I can be useful.' Her hand grasped his cheek gently, thumb caressing his skin. 'Let me help.'

'Take a sword.' His hand closed around hers for the briefest of seconds before letting go. 'And when Lurk says you jump, you do.'

'Well, I hope that goes the other way too because-' When he shook his head, she stopped her blabbering mouth. 'All right. Sword? Got it. Behave? Try to.'

'Good.'

'Don't worry, 'she said, standing on her toes, brushing the lightest of kisses on the corner of his mouth. 'Not too much.'

Billie had eyed her right hand, raw flesh healing, still missing nails. She didn't question, but the gritting of her teeth said more than enough. 'With that hand, you'll be dead in no time.' _Not that she was one to complain about that._

Childish followed her eyes. She stuck out the hurt hand, stiff pinky and long scars hidden behind the fresh injuries. 

'Good thing I am left handed then, people always take the wrong hand.'

Getting outside was strange, after weeks of being perched at windowsills, watching and waiting. Childish felt the urge to hide and run the first few breaths, as she looked around.

Swift and fast, in and out.

The iron cast gully had greeted her, friendly, offering cover, and she had slipped into the darkness without many problems.

Humphrey Crispin had been a kind but cautious man, up until he had been killed. smuggling goods and stolen wares throughout the city, he had not only used his small boat but the sewers as well. Childish had been very young, much younger than Billie Lurk now on the first day Crispin had taken her along.

'You need to care for the dead ends,'he had urged. 'Smell the air with that little nose of yours. You'll find the difference. Some doors and gutters are locked for a reason. And whatever you do,' his hand had gripped her shoulder.'If you don't have to, don't swim in the water.'

She had broken that last rule fairly often, if only for the reason to get rid of her pursuer. Crispin had fished her out of the water every time.

Childish remembered the arrows and signs other people had left here, years before her, some may already dead, others barely escaping the ever hungry abyss.

She walked along Billie Lurks icy silence, and felt like a much younger version of herself wouldn't have approved of how it all turned out.

When the men attacked, they had ventured down a crossway. An arrow led into the right direction. A black and red skull into the other.

'That's new.' Billie Lurk said.

'It means trouble.' Childish frowned.

'A skull means trouble?' Lurk scoffed, nudging the other one's shoulder hard when she brushed past. ' Who would have thought.'

'I'll throw a party when you die down here.' Childish smiled. 'I bet it's going to be gruesome.'

'If I die,' Lurk said.'You'll be gone already.'

'Bugger off,' Childish requested, doubling her steps to move faster. 'Or better, don't. Who knows what kind of traps you overlook and trigger with that ridiculous mask on your face.'

'Shh.' Lurks fingers dug deep into Childish's shoulder.'Hear that?'

Childish cocked her head.

Steps. Someone was moving along right before them, somewhere in the maze of tunnels.

It took turns and turns around brick walls half rotten and destroyed. Moving along iron gutters and streaming creeks of dirty brown water, so filthy the smell was stinging in Childish's nose. She looked over to Lurk,unbothered in her mask as it seemed.

She tried to keep track, counting pathways,crossings,doors. Once or twice they found another crate with various symbols , but always empty and exploited.

'Where are we?' Childish asked.

'If I knew, 'Lurks eyes darted around, her mask hanging at the back of her head like a bizarre headdress. 'Looks like they fled into this part of the sewers because no one knows of it.'

'This is not the sewers anymore. I crawled through that filth half my life.' Childish hand grazed the wall, gloved fingers on stone.

'You look the part.' Billie whispered.

'With a nose like that, I'd be careful not to throw stones. You're making a quite easy target.' Childish smiled painstakingly sweet. 'See that panels. Rotten wood. And there's a construction site. Either way, this was never finished or abandoned.'

'It's a perfect hideout.'

'It is.'

They stared in startled disgust at each other when they realized, they had agreed on something.

'You can _smell_ what I am thinking,right?'

Billie bristled before she movied on, she took the lead, feet sweeping over the bricks almost silent. Rats scurried along their feet, pink tails brushing along their legs, little claws scratching over the stone.

Taking the lead was what that lass always seemed to do, and something in Childish frowned again, an itch on her spine.  
It wasn't like she couldn't see the qualities in Billie Lurk.

She saw the discipline, the strength and a will that was like iron.  
She saw the deadliness in her quick eyes.

She still hated Billie Lurk with every fiber of her being.

* * *

A trail of muddy footprints led through the tunnel, down into two single rooms. There was a stench filling the air that made Childish gag. It was a small room, with a table, scattered books and a half-empty bottle of whiskey.

  
Blood was splattered on the wall, not entirely new, but not that old.

  
The source of the smell turned out to be a half rotten dog. Or at least his upper part, the skull half exposed, white and grey under maggot eaten flesh.

  
'Ugh,'Childish made, holding her sleeve over her face.'I hate dogs, but that one is even too much for me.  
A sharp knife, almost a precise scalpel glittered through the cloth had gotten Billie Lurks attention.

'Sharp enough to slit a throat,' she said, hands gripping the metal.'A clean cut or an angry slash. Certainly enough to kill a woman.'

'Jumping to conclusions.'Childish retorted.'I got Jeremy Pointman, remember?'

'Sure, but why is this here?' Billies hand had gripped a piece of silk, carelessly flung over the side of the table.

'Oh shit.'

Their feet splashed through water, standing a few inches in the room. Nothing. No more scattered belongings, no more signs of life or intruders.

'We could split up and search.' Childish offered. 'But I don't think that would be too smart. I have no clue how big the place is.'

'I think there is a way up.' Billie Lurk said, careful sliding along the wall. When Childish looked up, she saw a small ledge, with pipes leading around. The room was high, so high she could see a small white light at the top of it. The ledge way up, difficult to climb, with the wet slimy algae that covered the smooth walls.  
Childish had no clue how much reach Billie Lurks magical mojo had, but with the ledge that high up, she was doubtful to reach.

'Lurk.'she whispered.'I have a bad feeling about this.'  
Billie Lurk opened her mouth, but before she even could say a word, the screeching rusted metal gate went down, blocking the doorway they had come through.

The way was closed.

'So, how do I get home now?'Childish cocked her head.'Cause, you know, there has got to be a way out.'

Billie didn't answer her. Her dark eyes seemed to stare through the smooth stone.

'There is a way out,' her voice wavered.'Isn't there always?'

With her sight slowly adjusting to the dim light, Childish's fingers started to crawl along the walls, looking for any kind of cheap hook or lever people would use in a trap like this. There was none.

'Bollocks.' Her voice was merely a whisper now.

'Quiet.' Billie told her.

'Well if we don't find a way out we will be quiet pretty soon, so help!'

'Shh!' Billie Lurk hissed, looking up. She didn't as much as blink.

'I need to think and your senseless bladdering isn't helping.'

' Whatever.' Childish whispered, settling on the ground. In the dim light, the only thing standing out from her dark clothes were her face and hands, pale, luminous skin. Searching the ground, water splashed along her rolled up sleeves.

'I found some kind of valve.' Childish looked up.

'Turn or not turn?' Billie asked, rolling up her sleeves too and following the older woman's hand. They were careful not to touch each other, like that would burn them. Under the water she could feel the slippery old metal of a wheel, slippery on some parts, rusted sharp on others.

'Not sure. It could make things a lot worse.'

Careful, Lurks hand wandered to the valve.

'Let's try.'

As the pipes made a roaring sound, water streamed down in a big jet, hitting Sara Childish's head and sending her staggering back.

'Stop!' she yelled, water spraying over her face, roaring down on them.

The room was high. Much too with the water...Billie Lurk turned the valve even more.

'Are you trying to drown us?' Childish yelled.

'You can swim, can't you?' Billie yelled back.'We can reach the ledge and then I can blink out!'

Childish stared at her in a stupor. 'That's easy. Why didn't I think if that?!'

It was, in fact, not so easy.

The room was filling slowly, and the roaring of the water, the screeching of the pipes made their spine's itch. For a while, Childish circled around restless, before she gave up and sank into the water, reaching almost to her chest in that position.

Billie Lurk leaned against the wall, all waiting eyes and crossed arms.

'From all the places.' Childish said.'I get to be stuck here.'

'I didn't ask for your company either.'

'You know what pisses me off to no end, Lurk? That I wanted to tag along.' Childish huffed, hand reaching into the dark water, and letting it run through her fingers.'Just so I could shit talk a little and show you how it's done.'

'There you got it,' Billie Lurk said, crossing her arms even tighter. ' You don't KNOW how it's done. You can work that sword all right, and you aren't stupid but you know shit. You were gone for years from this city. It's not all rays of sunshine. And Daud won't save you anymore.'

'That's what bothering you the most, isn't it?'

'Please.' Lurk scoffed at her.'You want to think I'm jealous? Go on, I don't give a shit about your opinion.'

'But I did squeeze in your place.' Childish's voice almost got drowned in the flood.

'You think that? Really? Then you are just plain stupid.'

'And you are smart, yeah, I know. ' Water splashed as Childish moved her legs. ' I know your kind. I have been living on the streets myself.'

'You don't know anything. You always luck out.'

'That beating in the cells wasn't the first and I am sure it won't be the last I ever took. Where is the luck in that, Lurk? It could have been worse, sure.' Childish shrugged. ' It can always get worse.I learned that at home pretty fast.'

'Is this a contest?' Lurks voice was sharp. 'Who has had the worst? Or are you just trying to make me like you?'

'Oh please, you won't ever like me.' Childish rolled her eyes. 'And that's all right. I won't ever like you too. Thinking you are better than anyone helped survive. But it doesn't help now. So get off your high horse, lass.'

'Talking about high horses when all you do is sit on other people's back. ' Billie kicked the water.'You sit on Ash's back. You even got Daud to overlook the pile of raving shit you did. I mean, you trick him and get away? Fine, fool me once. But you return? And burn down a godforsaken mansion? And then he even gets you out of prison? How many times has he spared you? You make him look weak.'

She grew silent for a while, staring at the water slowly rising to her chest.

'You make people look weak,' Billie repeated.'You're like gout cracking an old woman's body, Sara Childish. And you do it unaware and laughing.'

Childish didn't respond, just continued to stare at the water. When she stood up, water poured from her wet clothes that fit her like a glove now.

'Then you should just leave me here.' Childish proposed.

'Maybe I will.' Billie Lurk said.

'But you should have a very good story for Daud and Ash.'

'I'll tell them the truth. You were reckless and didn't think it through.' Billies eyes left her face, wandering up to the stream of dark water that slowly filled the hole they sat in.

'I just wanted to be useful.' Childish whispered, almost voiceless.'No more sitting around , no more circling a room. I couldn't be lazy anymore.'

If Billie Lurk heard her, she showed no sign of response.

When the swimming started, they were both already soaking wet and shivering in the cold for hours.

Unbuckling their weapons and parting from their coats, floating around them like balloons, it became a little easier, though Billie was very stubborn about that sword on her hip.

'You'll drown.' Childish just said. 'And I need your damn magic arse. So let go of the bloody thing.'

Billies hand trembled when she unbuckled her belt. The sword went down fast, touching her leg one more time and disappearing into the water.

Their breaths were echoing loud and hollow through the hole.

The hole, that was the official name they had agreed on, forming in sentences like 'If I get out of the hoke, I will kill you.' Or 'The hole is too good for you.'

The anger, Billie Lurk had to admit, was part of the reason she was still treading water strong beside the other woman.

Only to outlive her. She'd not be the first to give up.

* * *

Grasping over the ledge onto even ground, their soaked forms came to rest. Shaking like fish on land, shivering and with pale lips, the two women were trying to fight the urge to rest.

Childish lay on her stomach, arms stretched out.

'I swear, Billie Lurk, If I get out of here alive,' she gasped through loud greedy breaths. 'I'll find a well and drown you in it.'

'It worked.' Billie turned her head to look at her, hair in her eyes. 'So stop complaining.'

'You ready to do your trick?' The water was still rushing below them. And endless stream. Maybe directly from the river, who certainly smelled like it.

Billie sat up, taking a deep breath. 'Think so.'

Childish's stomach flip-flopped around unhappy at the thought of getting carried through nothing but thin air, by nothing but magical powers, surged from the void, and by a person, she despised nonetheless.

'Then let's do it.' She could see the grim satisfaction in Billie's face, amusement, before she closed her eyes, swallowing hard.

It was different than the times with Daud. Billie didn't care very much if she held on tight. And so she had to grab the other woman as hard as she could while they moved. Soaring.

The meager contents of her breakfast felt like burning acid as she threw up, and Billie had the sense to take a step back.

'I thought Ash was joking when he said you get sick of blinking.' She sounded genuinely amused.

'No. All true.' Childish spat down into the water.

Then she looked up. They had made it halfway.

_Halfway._

'I'm not going to let you magicky me out here.'She snorted.' Not again.'

'Fine.' Lurk shrugged.'then stay.'

She held her chin up high. 'I will climb.'Stubborn as ever.

'Do what you want.' One last look, and she blinked. Was gone.

Childish gulped visibly.

Then she started climbing. Slowly, ever so slowly, her fingers found the cracks in the stones, showing fingers and toes here and there.

Billie stood above the hole, watching her. She was a good climber, Billie could see. Careful and slow she worked her way up. Why was she even waiting, watching her? A waste of time. With that hands, it would take her forever.

'You still there?' she called.

Billie didn't answer.

Childish looked up through greasy wet strands of hair. 'Thought so.'

A small gasp as her fingers lost contact for a moment. Her foot slipping over stone made a dangerous grinding sound.

'I may have changed my mind. Vomiting seems better than falling.'

As she considered answering or just going, the decision was made for her.

With a shattering sound, the older woman slipped down the wet stone. Childish tried to hold onto something else.

With a loud thump, something met the ground, water splashing.

Billie Lurk didn't see anything but the waves of the water crashing against the bricks.

For a long second, Billie was sure Sara Childish had met her end.

Then a mop of brown hair appeared beneath her.

'Lost my boot.' Childish informed her, hoarse. 'Whew.'

 


	15. Chapter 14 : Barefoot Swagger

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am lazy. And bad at micromanaging my projects.

Emerging from the dark like some sort of sea serpent, preying on a boat, ready to swallow it whole, Billie Lurk didn’t take time to look back. She took the mud and wet clothes with a certain grim grace.  
  
Childish just looked like a wet cat left in the rain, feeling miserable and shivering.  
  
One foot bare, the other still in her boot, she limped out of the opening that promised...well, it promised something. Freedom, maybe. A better smell?  
  
It was not exactly smelling better. But the view was definitely worth it.  
  
In the early morning, the city was tinted with red and rose light. The floodlights of Kaldwin bridge had stopped circling the water with their all-seeing eyes. The bridge was all steel and cold stone in the distance.  
  
The booming horn of a ship ripped through the screams of a seagull.    
  
‘Crabcock.’ Childish cursed. ‘We’re on the other side of the river.’  
  
Billie Lurk glared at her in an unnerved manner.‘You just invented that word, didn’t you?'  
  
'It felt 'Childish shrugged her foot out if the wet boot, holding it in one hand.’Very appropriate.’  
  
'I will never understand how people don’t strangle you whenever you talk.’  
  
Childish blew a wet strand of hair out of her face.'I possess a certain charm.’  
  
Billie Lurk gave her another disapproving glance before turning around.    
  
'So, you got an idea how to get back?'  
  
With their destroyed looks Childish was sure that walking over a bridge was the worst idea. If not only because she had been busted out of prison not even a month ago.  
  
'We' re out in the open. Move.’    
  
A single boot marked their rise of the sewers.  
  
‘You know’ Childish said as they moved up, through mud, along a brick wall. ‘ This reminds me when I lived in that flooded basement. Always lurking around to find a scrap. Shitty times and being a younger, dumber version didn't help. No offense. Well, maybe a little.’  
  
She didn’t look like she wanted to hear a story. It didn’t stop shaking Childish from telling it.  
  
'I was 16, or so, and the last year had been rough. I could barely steal enough to get Ashley to eat. He was just a baby boy, all big eyes and skinny. I was so desperate I considered robbing people, but all I had was a knife and I wasn’t very impressive to look at. Did it once or twice. Got mauled pretty bad.’  
  
Billie Lurk pulled herself up the bricks with ease, up into the streets of the city, crooked roofs and silent alleys providing safety. Childish looked around a second before she jumped up, arms burning, every muscle sore. ‘Sharing sob stories now?'  
  
'You don’t have to be a twat about it, Lurk.’ Childish rolled her eyes, hopping over a loose stone. ' When the boy got sick I was desperate. I had lost my knife to a bloke the night before. And the boy was burning with fever. When a rather well-dressed gentleman strolled around our basement, I decided to take the last swing. I had a stone and was ready for it. It was raining like crazy. He had a sword at my throat in an instant. But he didn’t kill me. Can you imagine? He listened to what I had to say and took us in. No one had been ever friendly, it was all teeth and claws, eat or get eaten.’  
  
'You lucked out again.’  
  
' Yeah, maybe.’ Childish shrugged. ' We all have been at a point where we couldn’t return and wouldn’t budge. Don’t tell me you never. It’s a risk we take gladly when we feel we have nothing more to lose.’  
  
Billie Lurks eyes seemed far away.  
  
'Crispin was a good man. He died because he was friendly that night. I won’t ever forget our joking and drinking. He was my best friend. I think when he died, I wasn't very grateful for what other people offered me.’ Childish coughed. ‘ I was so set up on revenge I would have set the world on fire. But I couldn’t see the big picture. I made mistakes. Grave ones. And I tried to run when I noticed what I had done.'  
  
Childish had thought Billie Lurks razor-sharp tongue to snap at her, but the other woman was eerie quiet as they reached an alleyway, grey stone smudged in the soft light.  
  
'I'll never ever be like that again. I blew that house up. And all my past mistakes are buried in there. If Daud had been as salty and mean as I was, he could have let me burn, or rot in that cell until I was done.  But he didn’t. Stuff like that inspires loyalty. So judge me all you want, Billie Lurk, but I'll stick around until he gets tired of me.’  
  
'Ugh,' Billie Lurk made a disgruntled sound, sodding wet leather boots squeaking a little with every step they dug deeper into the city. Their breathing sounded loud in the quiet morning air. 'You are so in love it’s disgusting. I'll never see why he keeps you around.’  
  
Childish chuckled. 'Remember that when he hears YOU flooded that blighted hideout. That gate won’t hold the water forever.’  
  
'I can throw you back in so you can check.’  
  
Childish only shook her head.  
  
Steps echoed loud through the cobbled paving.  
  
When Childish looked around she saw a patrol.  
  
All armed and pissed off they came their way.  
  
One of them was wearing a mask.    
  
A shiver crept up her spine, and it was not because of the cold.  
  
Billie Lurk leaped up, and in a blink, she was gone as Childish crawled into the safety of cover. The barrels were sent by a merciful god.    
  
'Lurk?'she whispered.  
  
No answer.  
  
'Shit.’  
  
As they approached she squeezed herself into the corner as tight as she could, heart drumming against her ribcage.  
  
The bitch had abandoned her. This time she had really done it.  
  
I swear, Childish thought, happy to be angry. Angry was better than frightened. And she was very much aware of the situation, and the fact they could do worse than kill her if they were to find her. _I swear, Billie Lurk, I will find a well to drown you in. Just like I promised. You deserve the worst._  
  
Biting down her lips hard, Childish peeked up from behind the barrels, seeing the tall shadows the men were throwing over the stone.  
  
_How curious, you sweet darlings are here, barely a stone’s throw from the entrance to that hideout._  
  
Too much coincidence.  
  
The guards were bad but the friendly neighbor from the abbey reminded her of James Westlake. If only the barrels in front of her were just as explosive.    
  
They were noisy, all this heavy boots and weapons. Which was for the best. InIn a flash, muddy framed Billie Lurk had appeared again behind them.  She was silent and very slow, all sharp eyes moving carefully not to make any sound.  
  
Something glistened in her hand.  
  
That minx, Childish recognized, had taken the scalpel with her from the sewer, probably hidden well in her boot.  
  
Her eyes glared into the darkness right where Childish was hiding.  
  
They hated each other, but in that second, Childish knew, she’d not let her die here. If only for fuss Daud would make.  
  
You give the word, her hand seemed to say.  
  
Looking over to the overseer, Childish decided quick. She shook her head at Billie Lurk, hoping that was enough.  
  
_Whatever fierce bitch you are, one with a scalpel against whatever these creepy guy and his mates have in their pockets? No no. Back._  
  
 Childish watched her retreat, as silent as she had come, while the men moved ever so close to Childish’s spot.  
  
It was an eternity of waiting, making herself very small behind the barrels.    
  
Hands curled into fists she waited for the second one of them would lean over the barrels, the moment when hands would grab her and the memory of the cell and the beatings was still fresh in her mind.  
  
The moment never came. Instead, Billie Lurk returned.  
  
Childish heaved herself up.  
  
'We'll split up, I don’t trust this. ‘Childish whispered.  
  
'If you get caught again I'll never hear the end of this.’ Lurk hissed at her.  
  
'No, look, I’ll find a way, I'll be careful. But you are fast. That way they circle around here? They are looking for you people. I guess whoever trapped us down there wanted to make sure the masked stalkers were done.’  
  
For the first time, Billie Lurk had nothing to add.  
  
'You go to him and tell him all about this. What we found and what happened here. 'Childish whispered. 'If I haven’t returned until noon he knows where to find me. And if haven't got there either well, no point in looking, yeah? Now bugger off.’  
  
For the first time, Billie Lurk willingly stretched out her hand and clasped it around Childish’s. The cold metal of the scalpel was heavy against her skin  
  
'Keep that stupid mouth shut.’  
  
'You got it Lurk,  piss off, or I'll think you actually like me.’  
  
Childish watched Billie Lurk disappear like smoke in the early morning sun. A shiver crept up her spine again. In a blur, she was gone, and for good this time.  
  
She had to be even madder than she had believed.    
  
Oh, the thrill of being close to death, she stared into a puddle at her bare feet for a moment. Once a day wasn’t enough for Sara Childish. Oh no.  
  
Childish bit her lip hard. Mud.  
  
She got both of her hands down in the puddle and smeared a thick layer of dirt over her face and on her hair, like she had just been sleeping, knocked out in the cold. It was the best she could do with nothing.  
  
At least her scars and freckles disappeared behind the smeared dark brown dirt. And she reeked even more. The stench would hold most people from looking too close.  
  
The poor and the dirt, that’s what makes them look away, she thought.  
  
Childish hadn’t made more than two steps when the patrol returned as if they had smelled the magic.    
  
'You there!' one of them called and she froze in place. The overseer didn’t pay attention to her.    
  
It’s something, she told her screaming pulse.    
  
'Me?' she said, pressing her tongue against her teeth in an attempt to draw.  
  
'See anyone else?' the man barked at her but luckily didn’t come close as she turned around.  
  
'Nah, Sir.’ She shrugged the best she could.  
  
'Have you seen anything suspicious?'  
  
'What's not suspicious these days? Old Gordy over there-' she pointed into an alley.’Got money all of a sudden, stole my sleep place just a week ago poor as a shaved cat!'  
  
'I don’t care about Gordy's money. Have you seen suspicious strangers?'  
  
'Have I seen-‘ she dared to spit out, a big badge of saliva, and he looked t her in disgust. Good, she thought, you find me disgusting you’ll look not so close. ''tis Dunwall, Sir! All creeper and hush hush!'  
  
'Wait a moment.’ The man suddenly said.  
  
Oh shit.  
  
'I know your face.’  
  
_Run, run, be clever._  
  
_But where to?_  
  
_Play it. You can do it._  
  
'Sure do, I was in the cells past the bridge, told me I was a drunken scoundrel!'  
  
The scalpel pressed against her palm cooly, a promise. Hidden in her sleeve, it would have been easy. The man looked at her for another moment.  
  
'Better hope you don’t end up there again.’  
  
He murmured something about idiots before he let go of the subject and turned around.  
  
She let out the longest breath she had ever held.  
  
Where to, where to, she asked herself, heart hammering in her chest as she watched his back retreat.  
  
Then she ran as fast as she could.  
  
One or two streets up to the river and out of the district. No matter south or north, just far, far away from these damn abbey people.  
  
The seagulls circled over her head again. When Childish decided to follow, she could see they were circling over the spoils of a net. Her feet were sinking deep into the mud, up unto her ankles and the wet hem of her pants.  
  
There were boats, loading in the catch of the day, filling their supplies of whale oil. Somewhere manned, some looked like the owners and workers were on a break.  
  
Already smell of fish. Might as well blend in again.  
  
She did, after all, like ships, didn’t she?  
  
She could only imagine the shock of the poor bloke that had the misfortune to stumble over her. A crazy woman jumping from behind the crate filled with mostly eels, holding a sharp knife in her hand.  
  
'Shh.’ Was all she made and the poor guy went pale as a sheet.  
  
'Haven't seen you.’he just said.’Don’t get paid enough for this shit.’  
  
'Neat.’ She thanked, sitting down behind the eels again, basking shivering in what little sunlight her cover allowed through.    
  
 

Three hours and more sore muscles in her body later, she had almost made it back.  
  
'Took you long enough’ A familiar voice said, pulling her lips into a smile. When she looked up, he was leaning over the edge of the roof close to her right side.  
  
'We can’t all fly through thin air, can we?' She felt no desire to repeat her merry travel with Lurk. And even when he held her tight, it ended in puke and shame.

He dropped down with ease, a shadow in red. Childish didn't wait for him to catch up. She moved so slow, a beggar with a peg leg would have won a race against her. it was a wonder her feet were barely scraped. Daud eyed her muddy bare feet and dirt smeared face.  

‘Just a patrol.' he whispered and she laughed. 'It’s never a just with you.’ 

'Gave my best.’ Laughing was good. She didn’t stop as they moved through the street.  

' You always do.’ There was the tiniest of smiles and she laughed even more. 'And you always end up filthy.' 

'Oh yes.' She nudged his shoulder gently. 'And my clothes get dirty too.' 

  
 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am going to need to take time off from writing , expect me back around february, so sorry :(


	16. Chapter 15 :Grazing Hand

_I was stupid._ Sara Childish thought.

'Bollocks.' Was all she said under her breath.

Scrubbing away the dirt from her throat with vicious strokes, the skin had turned angry red already. For the second time this day cold water made her shiver.

Water dripped down Childish's short hair, tangling in auburn and darkening it.

'It was placed there.' She said, repeating herself. 'The silk was placed there. With the girl. Or even with Pointman himself. Why else would it have been there? It wasn't the old man. This was so convenient. And the knife and everything else in that sewer. The guy hid there and he played me. Ugh.' She made a disgusted sound and bit her lip hard. 'I feel so silly. So bloody foolish. And now everything is just... gone. The whole creepy stuff.'

The floor made a creaking sound ,whisper of boots on old wood , and out of the corner of her eyes she saw Daud had moved closer, onto the bathroom tiles that were so cold they made her toes twitch. It was like one of those kids games where the others only move when the one in the lead isn't looking. He just leaned there, and watched her scrub her bare arms and chest with so much force the skin could peel off any second. Under normal circumstances she would have made a big deal out of it, bad wordplays, teasing, until he looked at her like she had lost her mind or played along. Right now all she felt was deep rooted frustration.

The room had once been a bathroom, she was fairly sure. Now it had little interior left. The sink was still there, though, and cold , almost clean water could be expected most times. The other water pipes were just rusty and broken, like bones snapped and standing out of the wall. There must had once been a bathtub. Sara Childish would have sold her soul for a bath.

Not that her soul would be worth very much. But maybe she could barter a little. At least warm water, please. Alas, there was little time and even less luxurious dwelling. She could thank everyone she had a little privacy, and this quarters.

Now that she thought about it, maybe Ash hd been right and she WAS sleeping her way up. If only that would include a bathtub, she thought , with the biggest regret.

Instead she continued to drain her hair under the small stream of water. Little droplets and streams of ice cold water ran down her spine, down the laughing magpie tattoo curling over freckled skin and scars, soaking her and making her shiver. She made a mess, mud and pools of dirty water, her clothes a pile at the door. She was so angry the mud had been erased with every vicious and abrupt rub she gave her only pair of pants, almost scrubbing through the cloth . They had seen enough cruelty in the world and didn't deserve her wrath. Poor pants.

'Your insistence on going down the sewers did more good than bad, Sara. The lair was well hidden.'

The praise felt good , but for once in her life, she was humble enough to admit her wrongs. 'Hate to say it, and pretty please never tell her ; Lurk did the work, I was just watching. And puking, a little.' Grimacing, she looked to where he leaned. 'I swear, there's something big and dirty going on.'

As always, he wasn't nervous or even bothered by her fidgeting. Reliable. Calming her.

'That fits what Tenna Smiles said the last time we met.'

Childish stopped rubbing her face for a second, through the water cleansing she still smelled the river, the fish. She wasn't sure she'd ever smell something different again. 'Before you killed her?'

Daud had moved even closer again, and she craned her neck to see him not a hand length away, silent and steady as always. For a while he didn't say a word.

'I mean, you killed her, you can just admit it, love, no judging.' Childish shrugged, trying to dry herself, scrubbing again too hard over the raw skin. ' She's pretty as a bird but mean as a snake.'

'I didn't kill her.' He finally said, almost like he was disappointed in her assumption.' Why would I? She is immensely useful.'

"Ah,I figured, you know, that blood-"

His hand wandered along the laughing magpie, and she remembered how she had joked about it once, before they had mended the broken mess of their relationship. Well, now he certainly knew how deep down it went. A different kind of shiver ran down her body now.

"It was a long night." He just said, seemingly unfazed by the way his hands touched her skin. She knew better by now. It was in the small things. His fingers were warm, and he moved them very slow, like he didn't yet decide where they should go. Sje felt the calloused fingertips and couldn't stop herself from leaning into the touch. 'And something personal, for once.'

'Seems like it. ' she whispered, grabbing the cloth with her fist. Her nails were dirty half-moons. But at least she couldn't see more dirt when she looked down. ' It still doesn't change the fact I ruined your chances, big time.' Despite their later talks and the grouching respect Childish held for Billie Lurk, she couldn't forget her words as the water had risen.

_You're like gout cracking an old woman's body, Sara Childish. And you do it unaware and laughing._

'I consider this not a complete failure.' His gaze was locked on her face, and his hands retreated.

He didn't let it show, but she was sure he knew some things she didn't. She was used to his discretion and secrecy by now. It was part of his being , woven into the patience and the discipline. Like a bird that needed wings to fly. That was just the nature of things. Her nature, however, was stealing and scattering secrets, and the curious part of herself could not let it rest easy.

She had been drawn to the secrets, taunting and mocking but ever so curious. She stayed for different reasons altogether by now.

Her pants were still too wet and She'd still be barefoot for a while longer. At least she had another shirt. Meant not be completely naked all the time.

_Running through the hideout of the whalers bare naked, now there's an idea._

'Not a complete failure.' She snorted, slipping into her shirt. She flinched a little, albeit more in surprise because she had forgotten, for only a moment, someone had ripped her nails off and flayed the skin off her hand. The damaged hand hadn't taken so well to the dirt and the water soaking the bandage and she was aware she'd had to take care of it soon. 'Well isn't that something?'

'It is more than I thought it would be. In ways that I am not particularly fond of.' His voice was hard in contrast to the way his hands had touched her just a moment ago. It was the way he usually barked orders or brushed her off. There was always steel in him, unbend and not giving in, not unlike a sword they all carried. The edges were sharp, just like him. Sure, this sword had scratches. That just meant experience. And sometimes that sword only grazed another one's neck instead of cutting it.

She chuckled to mask the uneasy feeling in her gut. 'If you're not fond of it I'll either love it or piss my pants. Maybe both. Wouldn't that be something.'

Something in his face twitched, the slightest of motions.

"Will you tell me now what that blasted snake has said?"

'I won't.' He declined, not looking up to meet her eyes. 'You have a tendency to make things complicated.'

She sighed.' I knew you'd say that. Still, No harm in asking, is there? '

'With you?' There was a dry undertone in his voice that made her smile. 'Your questions are always a risk.'

'For someone so smart you can be a silly man.' She smiled before she stood up on the tip of her toes, taking his face between her hands. 'The risk is not my questions.'

'No?' There was something gleaming in his eyes, and she was glad to see it, and glad to be here despite the circumstances and the fact she was a wanted woman now. Well, even MORE wanted than before.

If I had taken the ship the day he sent me away, she wondered, where would I be? Would I regret it?

'It's the answers you should care for. 'She whispered, grazing the scars on his face with the lightest of kisses.

* * *

Billie Lurk stood perched over the table, weighting the knife between her fingers. Steel in balance.

Unlike her mind the knife was cold and precise and it wasn't distracted thinking about wasted hours trapped in a sewer.

For whatever it was worth, Billie Lurk still hated Sara Childish. She still hated the high and mighty way she pranced around, her too loud voice and her ever smiling face. She couldn't deny she felt something else since they had parted in the alley, though she would have let them rip out her tongue before she'd ever admit it. Something in her actually respected the other woman, something she would have laughed a few days ago. Respect had to be earned in Billie Lurks world, with hard work, sweat and blood.

It was angering her in a way she couldn't fathom.

With the slightest of sounds the knife was send flying through the air, a sirring like the softest of songs. It stuck deep in the door. Only an inch from Thomas unfazed face.

'Hey Lurk.' He said, eyes taking in the shaking hilt of the knife. 'What has this door done to you?'

She only huffed at him.

* * *

Curled up along boxes, Ash Verley watched his lover work his way through letters on his work table. Sometimes he shifted, licking his thumb and leaving an ink stain on a paper.

Ash Verley always seemed to watch. He remembered watching his family, and he had learned to be very observant since the day he had been on the streets. Just knowing he didn't have to flinch or take caution, waiting and watching was relaxing.

Something furrowed Henry Mirriks brow, angering him , and the next thing Ash knew a paper was ripping, torn to tiny pieces. Fluttering down like snowflakes, they landed across the ground.

'What's the matter?' Ash asked. His voice was a tiny whisper floating through the room.

'Unpleasant news.' Henry Mirrik huffed. 'It seems my friend has had rats in his cellar. He tried to drown them, but they ruined and soiled his home before he could get rid of them. Unfortunately he lost some valuable items I left in his care.'

'Can't retrieve them?' Ash got up from the boxes, silent as he had learned to move around.

'Some, maybe, with time.' Henry Mirrik smiled his crooked little smile. ' Patience is all the more important. But I can be brash, always was a weakness I held.'

'You're not brash.' Ash's fingers rested on his shoulder, gentle fingers and soft eyes. 'You're passionate. That's a difference.'

' Oh sweet Ash." Henry Mirrik whispered, ink stained fingers closing around the hand. ' You always see the good in people. That will be your undoing.'


	17. Chapter 16 : Ebbing

Is it better to know a truth or to keep it hidden from oneself? A man had asked once.

A simple answer to that.

A lie can be a truth. A truth can be a lie.

And what lies can people tell to heal. And what truths can they reveal to destroy.

A word is mighty powerful. But you need ears to hear them and eyes to observe the face that tells it.

He thought of the way Billie Lurk had talked about the hidden lair in the sewer and about the room full of books. Lost to the world. Eradicated with precision. And in a fairly clever way. Water had destroyed the evidence and aided escape. If not for powers exceeding average human lives, there would have been no witness.

And even then, it had taken Sara Childish last piece of luck to escape an Overseer, reckless and rotten as she was.

Someone was clearly aware of the possibility he was on the trail. Someone smart. He had known that before. But now there was something else as well.

A circle etched in the ground, drawn with the blackest coal, blood and death and a rotting carcass. If it didn't sound like black magic. There was an endless stream of people in this city drawn to such things. But normally it ended quickly. Reckless or stupid, trickery and foils. People never learned not to dabble in things they had no clue about. Overestimation and blindness. He had watched it all and the circle continued, repeating itself until death and loss took them and the next one took the spot.

Rarely there was anything remotely interesting to find. Like the people that dug into the riverbed and the mud in hopes to find old wealth and treasure.

The river held many secrets. And the rock this city was built on just as much. It promised and teased and in the end, it trapped. It feasted and lived off the false hope and the darkness.

It was a place as dangerous as slippery stones.

 _Watch your step_ , the faces on the walls warned. _Or they'll hang you, string you up or shoot you down._

 _You'll get swallowed,_ the faces on the streets offered grayish and tired after a hard day or a devastating night of drinking.

_Life's a shithole and this city makes you hard as the stone it's built on._

After all these years he deemed himself good enough at watching carefully where to tread.

If whatever magical powers this person deemed themselves to have held true, it meant three things.

It explained the ineptitude to catch him.

Pride, that is a man's undoing often enough. Pride blinds and pride eats, feasting at your heart like royalty on a banquet. Hadn't he always said that all the times Lurks sword slashed too any and too reckless at him?

Falling victim to his own foolishness.

It made the chase more challenging. And 3., the spoils more worth.

He thought of the names , and the faces behind them, two more on a long list. They could have been able to answer questions. Perhaps. He was not blinded by rage or driven by vengeance. But truly it had been a little more personal.

_Blood on his clothes and dirt on his boots. So late the candle that stood by the bedside is already burnt down. He smells of water and mud, smoke and blood. Copper, salt._

_Whatever the words are she wants to whisper she doesn't._

_Nimble fingers in the dark used to stealing and climbing, nimble and fast. Unbuckling belts, unfastening buttons, until skin searches skin and scars are silver in the moonburnt light._

_Breaths mingling, the way they talk without speaking, the way she longs and the way he answers._

_Linger in each other, in the quiet, gentle night. Hidden away under blankets, hand still touching, fingers tracing_

_He isn't used to someone touching him gently like he is glass, and it amazes him just the same way it repulsed him._

_There's a strange sense in the way they are entangled. She always fit in perfectly. Now, with her small frame tugged in beside him, buried under blankets, like she is a bird in a nest, he sees it._

_Freckles in grey and silver, hair shimmering in the light._

Pride was as much undoing as love.

One hadn't said anything , and when he saw his face he'd taken the way out, the easy one, but the final. Pieces of his skull had splattered over the furniture.

The other had given incoherent mumbling. Drunken fool , tangled jacket, dirty hands.

Well, if the guard had something to bury they always did very well.

They wouldn't miss those two. A foot can tread even if a toe is missing. And those two weren't even that. They were tiny pieces of skin, at best. Faces and names as meaninglless as a drop of water in the well of time.

Something bigger, maybe. Something no one had anticipated, for sure.

Daud leaped off the roof, into the night air.

The chase. The jump. The controlled breathing.

It was all the same, the habit, the muscles remembered and the rest followed.

* * *

'Tell me,'Sara Childish whispered, leaning over the table in the most dramatic way. 'my dear Doctor. Do you hold any belief in the supernatural?'

A glass cluttered behind them on the table, and a half-empty bottle rolled over the floor when the inhabitant of the table got in a heated discussion over a hand of cards.

'Supernatural? Do you mean, in a spiritual way?' Henry Mirrik folded his hands, seemingly unimpressed by her act.

'No, no.' She took her glass and whirled the auburn liquid. It had the same color as her hair in the light of a candle. 'I mean the real, the frightening way. The scary kind.'

Beside her Ash played with a loose thread on his glove, watching silently and attentively. The wooden chair made a little noise as he shifted. He was moving very silent, and Childish was reminded what he had done the last six years. What he had become.

Henry Mirrik tilted his head before he answered. His voice was friendly enough. She could see why her boy was smitten. There was intelligence in that face. 'You mean the way people appear and dissolve like fog on my doorstep?'

'Ah well,' she smiled at him, shining eyes and freckles. 'Not my favorite way of traveling, I can tell you. Makes me sick. Weak stomach.'

'Coming from the woman biting off a nose.'Ash added, rolling his eyes in good-natured mock.

'These teeth bit many ears, noses, and different places altogether. I like to have the high ground, and if I don't, ha, I bite.'

Ash made a grimace. Talking about intimacy was still an easy topic. It was the only thing that had not changed in all these years. The boy had no experience and the man that sat next to her was still blushing and mumbling, shifting nervously at the image she drew.

'But yes. Just as that. Just as our mysterious lovely boy, flying over the air like a crow.' She answered Mirrik.

Henry Mirrik watched the man yelling and stomping over his losses, hazel eyes not betraying much, just deep-rooted distaste for her choice of establishment. She, on the other hand, wouldn't have wanted it any other way. Places like this reminded her of lost bets and won gambles, of golden coins and broken teeth. They were as dirty as glorious. They were home, just as much as the arms holding her at night, or the sound of the river flowing under the bridges. They made her brimming alive like the gaslights sizzling and moths gathering around the flames. People had always chosen to scramble together in this questionable dives. They liked to sit and talk, to drink and to bathe in the shady works and lives they were living. IT was the way of things. A simple way of life. A steady thing. If one could sit and brag, tell a tale over a bottle, who would refuse?

'I hold no belief.'The doctor said. In his rundown suit and the caution curling along his lips, he was the one of the three clearly not belonging. Poor loner, Childish thought. Fallen from grace and now stuck in the mud with both boots. He took it better than she would have, choosing to remain even. Just to help. 'I find it curious. That is all I can say.'

'You know what my good grandfather told me?' Her bandaged hand clung to the glass still. ' _Curiosity, Sara, is one man's coffin and the next one's bread._ Didn't help me and my twitchy hands so much.'

'Is there a point to your talk or do you want to hear your voice again?' Ash asked, trying to pull her back.

'My voice is lovely, like a bird chirping on a tree.'She batted her eyes at him. 'Especially when I sing.'

He looked at her in an almost desperate manner, remembering her drunken shanties, a yowling like a drowned cat in the old warehouse, making even the rats flee.

The doctor watched them with the tiniest crooked smile.

'I guess, I just want to know...'She leaned over the table once more, and her free hand touched the doctor's arm.'If he's aware what he's getting into. That shadows dancing on the wall have claws. And they can be scary and deadly.'

'But you weren't scared, Miss Childish, were you?'

She laughed, long and too loud, too dirty to be coming out of her tiny throat. No one ever called her Miss Childish. It was as laughable as flattering.  
More people ought to, she thought, liking the ring of it very much.  
It was either Childish or Miss Verley. Sometimes it was _bugger off_ , _lousy pest_ , and no one said _Sara_ like Daud, a single word that promised as much as it threatened, rolling off his tongue, accompanied by that glare he gave her whenever she was behaving her ridiculous self.  
The laughing and the memories of those gray eyes held something other at bay, something that was still haunting and terrifying her since the day the noose had ripped and her body was send toppling down.  
Words and images scattered in her brain like the floating islands of the void.  
She took a deep breath before she answered.

'I am terrified. My biggest fears are coming true, and they chase me. I was never fond of magical taradiddle. Family problem. Ask the boy. I dealt with it in business, but private..oh my, not for a long time.'

'Surely brave to face your fears then. A woman of your caliber ought to have someone befitting.'  
He knew of the way she had clenched her hands around the too big coat in desperation. His words were innocent enough. But she was not buying it.  
'Doctor,' she leaned back, amused. 'Are you asking if I am married?'

'I don't want to imagine that.' Ash muttered and she laughed again. Her laughter was joining in other voices, a stream of sounds and life.

'But I do! Imagine HIM making me an honest woman. Ah, alas, It will not happen.'

_People like us are not fitted for a life like that. And don't you two know that as well?_

'I like my men like my whiskey.' She downed her glass, bristling in the burning sensation in her throat and the warmth in her chest. ' Very dry. That is all I am willing to give on the matter.'

A while they sat on their table, dirty glasses down. She was the only one drinking, really. The boy was not much of a drinker and the doctor sipped, very sophisticated.

She looked at them and she felt old when she could only find traces of the boy inside the man Ash Verley had become.  
Old and still a fool. But a good looking one at least.

'I guess' she sighed. ' I just wanted to have a nice chat, yeah? Get cozy. You blokes are in love, I get that. I see it in the way you stare, all puppies. Just have it friendly. Blessings and shit for my sweet Ash.'

'Blessings?' Ash huffed.  
'Every once in a while I turn soft,' she smiled at him, softly. ' Especially when it may be the last time I get to do it.'  
None of the two knew what to make out of that. And for once she didn't gloat but kept herself hidden. Hidden like a body behind stairs, in the night, in shadows and lies, smiles and touches.


	18. Chapter 17: The things we say in the dark

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No Childish and Daud or any character this chapter. Only Henry/Ash. Sorry.

It was dark when Henry Mirrik returned to his home. Always early, always late. There was no rest to expect. He hated these hours with the intensity of someone that had once been able to sleep and now would never get to rest.

The last days had been remarkably quiet after all the flurry. But that was possible to be expected when people braced themselves for the last act of this play.

Sara Childish thought she was smart above anything else, witty.

She was loud, too proud, too open, and that was all. She thought she was entertaining, but the only person she was amusing was herself.

Shadows with claws. Warnings and blessings. Goodbyes and words left unsaid.

But the others, the one's behind her, that was something much more daring and dangerous. These people had knocked on his doorstep, and he knew their lithe movements, their pistols, and swords.

 _She has that hair,_ auburn _in the light and the small frame._

A moment he wondered if the idea had occurred to her.

He didn't care too much. Sometimes being friendly tired him.

Too much personal involvement _always_ tired him. And he already had strings attached. Unplanned, but not unwelcome.

Some dust shouldn't be whirled up. It only makes it hard to see the full picture.

And what a picture that was.

His bones ached a little in the timid air trapped between the houses. Dirty boots splashing through puddles.

The entrance to his small home was half overshadowed. The houses stood so tightly perched together, they could have fought for the squeezed tight space. Flocks of birds often occupied the chimneys. Now there was not one animal to see.

Faint clouds of fog curled along the cobblestones. There was the faintest movement in front of him.

He pretended to search his keys, hand searching his pocket.

The figure moved again, towards him.

His brown gloved hand held the sharp, metallic object tightly. It glinted slightly, a promise.

A sharp breath, alerting, escaped from his opponent.

One long cut, it would have been enough.

'Henry.' The voice in the dark said instead, a small whisper. Leaving one mouth and traveling the small open space between them.

Henry Mirrik let out a breath of air. 'You scare me to death every time you do this, Ash.'

'I am sorry.' Came the heartfelt answer. 'I forget it sometimes.'

'Let me get some light.' He muttered, stepping inside the small room crowded with boxes and broken old furniture.

'Where have you been?' Ash asked, one tall slender body clad in grey and black. It was the color of the night sky, grey clouds, and dirty smoke, stars only a faint-hearted thing to remember, barely visible.

'Where do you think I was?' He scoffed softly. The match made a sizzling sound. Then the flickering flame caught a pale sharp face staring at him.

'You smell of mud and blood. And you have your bag. So someone got hurt.'

'People always will get hurt.' He whispered. The leather smelled of the dirt and worse things when his hands pulled the gloves off, finger by finger, slow, never letting go of the still figure watching. 'And you know that.'

_The way of the world, one would possibly say. And perhaps even though we fight it, we can't do anything against it. You wouldn't know how that feels, fighting for nothing. Not even you, Ash Verley, dealer of death. A creature made of fog on my doorstep. No one truly understands how it feels to fight the inevitable._

_What is worth more? One life saved or one sacrificed?_

'That is why we have people that fix us and try to be better.'

In the flickering light, he smiled at Ash.

_You sweet, sweet man._

'Is there any reason you came? Or did you just miss me?'

'I just wanted to make sure you were fine.'

'Did you eat something?'

'Not since yesterday.' Ash scratched his cheek.

'Why not stay?' Henry Mirrik asked. 'Just let me clean myself. I hate the smell more than anything.'

The smell of the water, sweat crusted on skin.

And why not indeed?

His foot gave his bag a discreet shove to the right. It would be forgotten soon enough. The scalpel found its place where it belonged, on the desk, in reach, but not to be used.

* * *

'What about…eyes?' Ash asked.

It was an old game between them, these discussions and whispered words in the dim light of one single lamp. Sizzling insects caught along, drawn to the flames and following right to the light into their demise. The room was as miserable and small as it always was. But at least the roof was not leaking, and the windows were stable, even though the shutters clunked now in the wind. Loud, thudding sounds in the silence. Pulsing along their heartbeats.

'Eyes?' Henry Mirrik repeated.

'Yes. Eyes. Stabbed, perhaps. With a knife.' Ash's finger drew a line around his eye, one soft touch. The thought of Ash Verley stabbing someone seemed almost absurd for a second, soaked in warmth and comfort. Relaxed muscles, peaceful surrendering to the way their bodies pressed against each other.

But he knew better. Appearance mattered, but it was a distraction also. 'Did you do that to someone?'

There were peace and safety in carrying a weapon in a dangerous place like this. No one knew that better than the good doctor refusing to pay the local gangs taxes.

Sharp and dangerous, silent and steady. A weapon served the purpose of protection.

Everyone has his secrets, his burden to carry.

Again, who would know better than the good doctor?

The hand stroked his face once more, bringing him back into reality.

'I have never stabbed someone in the eye. I prefer to have a clean cut when I have to kill someone.' Ash answered, honest. 'And I don't wish to be violent when I can be swift.'

So honest. It was almost like the treasure buried in the river, with people sifting through the mud to find it. And he had it here, laid bare and open at his very doorstep. What a gift.

'Some people value efficiency over cruelty.' He agreed. But not all. Never all. It didn't need to be said.

Not in the filth and stink surrounding them.

An eye...he had a thing or two to say about eyes, he supposed. For a moment he wondered why they were like this. Morbid in the bedroom, when all they should have done was enjoying it as long as it could last.

Then he remembered the nature of things and everything made perfect sense in the deceiving way of the world.

'Eyes are a complicated matter.' He tried to brush it off.

'Should I stop asking you questions?' Was the gentle question in return. So gentle. It had never been his plan to meet someone with eyes that had the softest touch of some vivid life. Behind this green eyes was a world trapped in horror, in blood. That was the irony in all of it. These eyes had seen enough violence. They had learned to cater to death. Just as the hands that touched him now. And yet...

'Does it bother you?' Ash asked again.

He gave the notion a thought. A long drawn out breath in his chest. A crooked smile. 'No.'

Henry forced his body up, away from the warmth. Parting only one second. Ash lay sprawled along the faded with cloth, willowy limbs stretched out. He turned slightly but didn't move much before Henry had swung his thin leg over his body. One leg on every side, hips buckling over one another a moment before he had taken a comfortable position. The bed creaked protesting.

As always, the silver waif, the forsaken gift of someone he would never meet again, watched. He sometimes imagined what the artist would have to say to the way he chose his living. He was sure she would not have liked it one bit. Sometimes it seemed like the silver figures and hypnotic circles moved, watching him, mockingly. Other times all the imagery did was depress him, sending dark waves of animosity towards him, and he could scarcely look at the image.

'Your good eye will always try to move. So if you were stabbed or hurt on one side…'

His hands found their way over the pair of green eyes watching. A blindfold made of flesh. He felt the lashes flutter, eyelids closed under his touch. The body under his own moved slightly. Ash was waiting, silent and patient as always. He knew his hands still smelled stinging clean. He wondered if Ash ever minded the smell.

'You best cover both of them.'

'That makes sense.' His mouth whispered, lips slightly parted when Henry Mirrik moved. He could feel the vibrant life flowing along Ash's breath, a chest rising and falling. Such a small thing, an automated response, lungs filling with air. The hammering beat of a heart. If someone would have presented him an orchestra, no violin in the world could be ever sweet enough to overcome the symphony that was the feeling of the body beneath him.

His hands were still folded over Ash's eyes when he leaned down to kiss him, one slow lingering foul kiss.

_Foul, that is what we are, rotten behind our kempt façades. Better you don't have to see it, better not ruin this perfect creature anymore. Smiling and laughing, soft and honest, even though he knows too many ways to kill a man with his bare hands._

'I am sure you know. But knife wounds are the messiest.' Henry whispered. Ash's hands were carefully wandering beneath his shirt. 'I don't even speak about just eyes anymore.'

Who is examining who now? He had joked the first time he had been touched this way. It had only ended with Ash tumbling out of his bedroom, and that'd been that.

The hand had learned some confidence in private and practice, as proven by the way it worked on his buttons and his belt buckle now.

He still was all stuttering embarrassed when it came to talking about it. Perhaps that was the reason for their topics in a bedroom. It was almost endearing.

As it was, this was reasonably better handled in privacy anyway. People loved to talk. And Henry Mirrik hated every word that ever left their mouths. Too much tumbling shame and rotten chattering. Too much vile spit. Anger flooded his system, deconstructing his calm demeanor, as it always did. It was the clenching of a hand, curling around the fabric of a shirt or into a fist.

'People always try and remove the knife, don't they?' Ash asked now, mouth only half focused on the talking, distracting him by leaving a gentle line of kisses on his chest, working their way up, body rising like a someone asleep getting torn awake and sitting up. His hands were a tingling warm sensation running over Henry's back. He took the distraction willfully.

His breath was hot and tingling, like the flickering flame of a candle the second you hold your hand only a little too close.

'Yes.' Henry answered, barely audible. If it was an agreement to the state of undressing or the question, he wasn't sure himself.

'I've seen that. With Crossbow bolts.' Ash's mouth said even though he shouldn't say anything anymore at all as it wandered over his skin.

'It never seems like the most clever thing to do, but people can't help it.' Henry leaned into the touch hands moving over the scar on Ash's brow, a small reminder of flesh healed and time gone by long enough to fade, like memories.

'I have seen my share of people dying from stab wounds.' His hand curled into the brown messy hair, gripping it tightly. 'Bleeding out like pigs.'

'Do you know what the problem is?' Ash asked, almost too thoughtful. 'Everyone in this city can get a gun, a knife. And they all want to use it.'

'And why wouldn't they?' Henry whispered back.

Shadows that have claws, Sara Childish had said, freckled face flickering itself in the light.

He knew some small, little truths about shadows with claws. A rational person at the core he had dismissed such things for the longest time.

But in truth, it had never been any occult rite that made him afraid, or hateful, it was humanity itself. It was the things he had lost, the things he couldn't have, and the things he would only desire to never gain them.

He looked over to the Silver Waif for a long, drawn-out breath.

If she could see me now, he pondered. If my friends were still and truly my friends. But no one ever stays, all they do is laugh, and mock, and leave. And sometimes, they get ushered away, just because no one understands what they are trying to accomplish.

He thought of the recent losses, looked back at the person in his arms and the anger returned, if only for a moment.

If only your eyes weren't as soft, he thought. If only you didn't stumble over your feet in the attempt to care. If only you were less patient.

But they were. And he couldn't remember when someone had ever been fascinating him as much, silent and loyal to the ones he loved, ready to kill for it, but so good-natured and patient at that.

'Henry?' Ash whispered. 'Did I do something wrong? I didn't mean to.'

His mouth was bold, only taking and not even asking.

You're not brash, Ash had once said, only passionate.

If he knew what his hands wanted to do, if he knew there was truth and danger and secrets behind being the good doctor, he would have never stayed.

There was no resistance, only a sound, not a moan, not a sigh. Just a sound indicating he did not mind the kiss at all.

For a while, there was no need for talking anymore. Just the sound of music, bodies, and heartbeats.

It wasn't the shutters that knocked against the wall that woke him, but a fist on his door downstairs. The light in the small lamp had died. And the sun was not yet up in the sky he could see through the cracks of the shutter, dirty grey and dark blue, smudges of pink and silver drawn in it, almost like the fine lines on the image framed in his room.

Ash was wide awake, as expected from someone having time to train his reflexes over the years. His hand had slowly wandered over to where his gun was hanging around the bedpost, but Henry waved the attempt off, slipping into his shirt, clothes a puddle around the bed.

'Let me handle it. Sleep a little longer.'

The figure in front of his door was twitching, eyes nervous.

The anger that was so often a cold dislike for the nature and nurture of things exploded. He gripped him tightly, hurling him inside.

' I told you to never come here.' he hissed and felt the foul breath of the man on his face.

Foul, everything is foul. Where is the good side of it all? Why do I keep even pretending it exists?

'Jeremy Pointman is dead and Jules is on the run.' he whispered.

'Yes, I know that. I got the letter. ' Henry grabbed his torn off collar tighter. ' Do you want to die too?'

'No.' the man muttered.

'Then leave. And wait.' He let go, not willing to waste another look. ' We're being watched. Very closely. By too many eyes.'

'But-'

The scalpel was where he had left it. It would have been easy. Gripping it tightly. Letting the rage all out. 'No but.'

Ash was half dressed, head tilted in curious interest when he returned upstairs. 'What was it?'

'People get hurt all the time, right? It was nothing.' he whispered.

Now he was glad for the darkness. Things we say in the dark are easier disguised.

It didn't take long before he was alone again.

Ash was, after all, a man made of fog. This creature that seemed to strive in kindness. And fog dissolved in the morning air when the sun rose like some dream that would never be enough.


End file.
